


What Honour Demands

by Queen_Rhaenas_Favourite



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire
Genre: Bobby B is Javier, Daenerys is Cosette, Dragons, Essos, Kind of a Les Mis type of thing, Lys, Ned Stark adopts another child, Ned Stark is Jean Val Jeans, She looks just like the Les Mis poster, a trip to Lys, direwoves, freecitites, ned being a nice guy, ser Jorah isn’t actually that great, seriously though if you search that picture of dany, what if, where she hold the egg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2020-11-24 11:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 60,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20906786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Rhaenas_Favourite/pseuds/Queen_Rhaenas_Favourite
Summary: Three questions for you all:1) What if Ser Jorah Mormont took Longclaw with him into exile?2) Would Ned Stark really let him live after committing this theft?3) Most importantly, how will a trip to Lys change the fate of Westeros?





	1. A Trip To Lys

Bear Island 

“Where is he” Ned was furious. 

“Gone my lord.” Maege Mormont bowed her head at Ned approach. 

“When? Where to? Who with?” He asked

Not four weeks past, Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell had received word that the Lord of Bear Island had caught poachers on his land, and instead of giving them to the Watch as Northern custom would dictate, he sold them to a slaver. Ned could not and would not allow any Northern citizen to be sold into bondage while he ruled. So here he was, on Bear Island, speaking with the new Lady Mormont about her nephews treachery. 

“He left barely a week before you arrived my Lord, just him and Lynesse. Where he went he did not say.” Maege sounded almost as angry as Ned was.

Lynesse was the traitor’s wife. By all accounts it had been for her sake that the man had sold the poachers. Lord Eddard had met the woman in Winterfell some years ago, she had seemed miserable for the entire duration of the trip. Even when Ned’s own wife, Catelyn, had tried to befriend the woman and offer her some advice on how to cope after moving to the North, Lynesse had made it very clear that she hated her life on Bear Island, and that Winterfell was little better by her standards. 

“But if you had to guess?” If the insult to lord Eddard and house Mormont had not been great enough already, the traitor had run away to Essos with his aforementioned wife before Ned had the chance to bring him to justice. 

“A guess? Lys.” Maege shrugged. 

“Why is that?” 

“Lynesse did not like the North, it was too cold and grim for her. She is a summer lady, she’ll have asked to go to a summer city.” That was no news to Ned. 

“What makes you so certain that they would go where she chooses, he could go anywhere he likes and not give a dam about her opinions.”

After all the traitor had done for his wife, Ned was surprised to hear that the new Lady Mormont did not expect her nephew to dispose the woman. But Maege knew him best, so Ned listened. 

“Everything my nephew did, he did for the love of her. He will do the same now as they travel into exile together.” The she-Bear rolled her eyes when she told him of her nephews “love” for his wife.

“Very well then. I had not planned on visiting Essos anytime soon, so with your leave I will return on the morrow after my men have searched the castle.” 

Ned hesitated as he noticed the she-Bear’s face. The woman was clearly seething, he had no wish to insult Maege, she seemed a loyal and honest woman, but he had to be sure. 

“You will permit my search of course, I trust you I do, believe me, but I must have my men search for him.” 

“I understand, my grievance lies with Jorah, not you.” 

The lord of Winterfell was somewhat surprised to hear that, but not entirely. 

Ser Jorah has dishonoured his house; the Mormont’s were one of the oldest families in the North, they had ruled Bear Island for centuries, they had every right to be as proud as they were.

“If he had left as he was I would not have minded too much, but not only has my nephew dishonoured our House, he took Longclaw with him when he left.” She clenched her jaw and balled her fists. 

“Longclaw. That is your family sword is it not?”

Ned’s own family sword was called Ice. 

“Aye, Valyrian steel. It’s belonged to house Mormont since before the doom. Now Jorah has taken it across the narrow sea I will likely never see it again.” 

That fact angered Ned more than anything else, Jorah could have at least had the grace to leave such an heirloom in his families hands. 

“Yes, my lady, you will.” Ned looked over his shoulder to where the captain of his household guard stood waiting. 

If Jorah had simply run, Ned would not have bothered to peruse him, but this theft was a crime and an insult he could not tolerate. 

“Jory, inform the men. We leave at dawn, book us the next ship to Lys.” He would have to send word back to his wife, he would likely not be there for labour. 

On the boat to lys. 

They had been aboard the Water Bear for almost two moons now. Ned has never been one for ships and this journey had not improved his opinion of them as of yet. They had had to sail all the way around Westeros, journeying far out to the west as they passed the Iron Islands so as not to be spotted by any vengeful Greyjoy captain. 

It had been almost 4 years since the end of the Greyjoy rebellion, and the Iron Islands forces were still no match for any mainland army, but a lone ship carrying the Lord of Winterfell would make a handsome captive for Balon Greyjoy. After the rebellion, Ned has taken Balon’s last boy, Theon, as a ward and hostage, leaving Balon with only a daughter now his other sons were dead. Ned hates the man, but he had to feel some sympathy for his loss, he could not imagine losing one child, let alone three. 

The rest of their journey had been relatively easy, with strong winds and gentle currents carrying them around Dorne and past the Stormlands. Now they were in the middle of the narrow sea. It would take them another moon at least before they would arrive home again, though Ned had already decided they would sail for White Harbor on the return journey. It was a more direct route. 

Looking back out across the sea, Ned felt strangely sad. Honour had called on him to peruse Ser Jorah, but what was it costing him? He missed his wife. He missed watching Jon and Robb sparring, and Arya trying to steal Brans bow without Ser Rodrik catching her, Sansa following her mother around, learning how to be a lady. 

A voice called out behind him, bringing him out of his thoughts. It was Jory. 

“My Lord.” Jory A’s voice was soft and calm as always. 

“Jory.” Ned was always happy to see his friend. 

“What’s on your mind, my Lord.” Jory had noticed Ned’s quietness and worried for his friend. 

Ned sighed, he could not put everything on his mind into words, he had never really been one for describing his feelings. It was a Northern thing. But for his friend, he tried as best he could to explain. 

“This shall be the fifth time Catelyn has birthed a child for me. And third time I have not been there with her.”

“I’m sure your lady wife will understand, my Lord. Ser Jorah committed a terrible crime, you are only doing your duty.” Jory creased his brow, he had too much kindness for people. He was a good man, but a terrible judge of character. 

“I doubt she will see it that way. I shall have to find some way to make it up to her.” Ned wandered if anything could make up for his third absence to his child’s birth. 

“I hear the markets in Lys are fair, perhaps she would appreciate a gift.”

“That’s true.” Ned had never been to a Lysene market, nor any other kind for that matter, he had always been too busy. 

They stood in silence together for a moment, watching as the waves rocked on and on for as far as they could see. The sun was almost fully risen, so it had to be early. The sun always rose early in the summer. Summer was ending now, he could feel it. Winter is coming.

The beginning and end of the summer year were always marked by the most beautiful sunsets and sunrises, both of which were heavily exaggerated and made even more stunning by the water beneath them. So now as they sailed closer to Essos, rays of light; pink and gold and green, shone out behind the two men. Ned knee if he turned around the sight would be even more beautiful, but he wasn’t ready to see what was ahead yet. 

“What do you hope for the babe, boy or girl?” Jory asked suddenly, breaking the silence between them. 

“I do not mind. As long as they are healthy and happy, I am content.” Ned replied, smiling at the thought of his family growing even bigger. 

There was another moment of silence until Jory asked.  
“Boy?” 

“Gods Yes.” Ned told him. 

The two men laughed at that, chuckling together as the held onto the railings. 

“Truly, Sansa and Arya are more than enough of a handful as is, I can’t be going adding another girl to the mix.” Ned explained once he had recovered from his outburst. 

“Aye, that’s understandable. I once heard my uncle saying war was easier than daughters.” Jory smiled at him reassuringly. 

“Well he’s certainly right about that.” Ned agreed. “Aye, no I do love them both, truly. Sansa is everything anyone could ever have hoped for in a daughter; a proper little lady. Then Arya, well, what to say about Arya.”

“Aye, my Lord. I hear the castle staff call her Arya Underfoot now.” Jory chuckled. 

“That right, because that’s where she always is. She’s not yet 6 years old and she’s already getting a reputation for herself.” Ned mused. 

“It isn’t a bad reputation my lord, the people in Winterfell are very fond of the girl.” Jory said proudly. 

“She’s like her aunt in that way, and in so many others.” 

Ned’s mood fell instantly at the thought of his sister. She had died in Roberts Rebellion, and left behind a son who was now safely hidden in Winterfell posing as Ned’s own bastard. Ned alone knew the whole truth. Not even Howland Reed, the lord who had been there with him that day knew everything about Jon and Lyanna, and the truth behind the war. 

“Sire-” Jory began but was interrupted. 

“My lords.” The captain called from behind them. “We’ve seen Lys ahead. We shall arrive within the hour. I would advise you gather your belongings.”

In Lys

“Take the sword Jory, have care not to lose it.” They had found Ser Jorah. 

“Will we be leaving now?” Jory asked. 

“No, it took so bloody long to get here and find the man, we might as well try to enjoy Lys for a few days.” 

His confrontation with the former Lord of Bear island had taken somewhat of a toll on him. The man had seemed to give up easily enough once he knew he had been caught, but had soon lashed out, drawing on Ned the very blade he had gone there to find. 

Longclaw was a fine blade, Valyrian steel always was, but Ice was Valyrian steel too. The fight was won the moment Lord Eddard drew the two handed Greatsword from its sheath. Ice would not have been Ned’s usual choice for a fight, but this was an execution; tradition had to be upheld.  
It had not taken Ned long to overpower Jorah, the bear was almost twice his age and passing his prime, where the Lord of Winterfell was still in the middle of his. 

Jorah’s wife, Lynesse, has seemed more inconvenienced than aggrieved by her husbands death, and was not near as great full for her life as she should have been, but she accepted their mercy and agreed never to return to Westeros. 

“Shall I find an Inn for us?” Jory asked, sliding Longclaw carefully into his sword belt. 

“No, the boat will suffice.” Ned did not like the idea of staying in and Inn here. Lys was notorious for its pillow houses and pleasure gardens. Ned was not sure he would be able to find a single inn that would serve as acceptable accommodation for a Lord of his standing. 

“Are we to go back there now?” Jory shifted his dirk a bit so it did not dig in, then gestured to a few of the Stark guards who had wondered off to explore the nearby market stalls. 

“Soon, these are good markets, I should find something for Cat while I can.” Ned had not forgotten about his apology gift. It would need to be something significant this time. 

“I’ll have the men take Ser Jorah’s remains back to the ship, we can deal with them later.” Jory gave the orders to men he had just called back. 

“Aye, that we can.” Ned turned to look at stalls around him. 

Anything anyone ever wanted to buy could be found here, Ned thought. The people at the markets were almost as strange as the items they were selling, and indeed, some of the people were for sale, slavery, ned thought, there is no worse fate for a man in this world. He could not help those people now though, so he concentrated on his goal and looked around him. 

To his left was a row of armourers and blacksmiths, flogging their weapons and armour all of which was exquisitely crafted from gold and silver steel. To the right of him was a row of food stalls, selling fruits and meats he had never even heard of before then. 

As he and Jory walked further along they came to an area with a mix of taylor’s and jewellery makers stalls. This was a prime place to find a gift for his wife. He sent Jory out to round up the rest of the men, they would not be staying there much longer. 

Ned had just finished paying, he had found a silver ring with an intricate little fish on which he assumed was made of pearl. He had decided that he should buy something for the babe too, so he had bought a blanket , which the Summer Islander he had bought it from claimed to be a lions pelt. I shall make sure never to let lord Tywin knows, he’s a prickly man and would likely take offence to that.

He looked around for any of his men, and Jory came hurrying towards him, with a concerned look on his face. 

“Sire, you should come see this.” Jory told him in a hushed voice, though it was so loud there that no one would have been able to hear them anyway. 

Ned followed him to where a small crowd was gathering not too far away. He heard two men having a rather heated dispute in Valyrian. He did not speak that tongue so he turned to the woman beside him who he had recently heard speaking the common tongue to a few Westerosi merchants.

“What are they saying?” Ned asked her, she gave him a puzzled look, then began to translate the argument for him.


	2. Their Mothers Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Lord Eddard Stark ventures into Lys he comes upon two people who definitely did not want to see him there.

“Will you take the crown or not?” Viserys demanded. 

There was a crowd gathering around them now. Daenerys’ brother had been arguing with the merchant for half the morning, or so it felt to her. Viserys was trying to sell the last thing of value they had left; their mothers crown. 

When Viserys had told her what he was going to do, Daenerys wept. She would have fought him if she had the strength to, but hunger and homelessness were slowly killing her and her brother both. So now she watched as her brother bartered the last thing they had that could connect them to their mother. To their family. 

“Gladly, but not for the price you are asking.” The merchant was growing impatient, Daenerys could tell. The man kept turning to the man behind him, rolling his eyes and making frustrated remarks in a tongue she did not know. 

“This was the crown of Queen of the blood, the sister-wife to the last true king of the seven Kingdoms!” Viserys began to shout. His shrill voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd around them and ran down Daenerys’ spine, bringing her arms out in anxious goosebumps. 

“The Mad King, yes I know, you’ve told me this. Still, it makes no change who’s it was. The dragons are gone, this crown is made of gold and silver, I have much of this already.” The merchant rolled his eyes again and began to prepare for the next customer. 

The little Princess could feel her eyes begin to fill with tears, she made no attempt to stop them. All she could feel, all she could ever remember feeling was hunger and sadness and fear. They ate her alive and left a pit inside her stomach where food and family and joy should have been. 

She knew that Viserys was selling the crown so that he could feed the two of them, but when he had told her that morning what he was doing, she watched silently as what little joy he still had in him vanished. 

Suddenly, Daenerys felt her tears of sadness turn to tears of anger. With all the energy she had left, she launched herself at her brothers leg, crying and wrapping herself around it. 

“Viserys, please you can’t! That’s mother’s crown!” Daenerys pleaded, but her brother did not even deem to look down at her; he kept his chin up high and shook his leg in an attempt to remove her. She dug her nails into his thigh in an attempt to make him look down. It worked. 

“You think I don’t know that? She was my mother not yours, you never even knew the woman but you killed her anyway.” Viserys bent over her and hissed, grabbing her arms and removing them from his leg. He began to twist one of the, causing his sister to cry even harder. 

“That’s not my fault!” Daenerys shouted. They had had this argument so many times. Daenerys never won.  
“We are not having this discussion again now, but you will regret this later sister I can promise you that.” Viserys kept a tight grip on his sisters arm and straightened himself up to finish his business with the merchant. Daenerys had woken the dragon, she had gone too far she knew. 

“Sir, I will give you three quarters of what you ask for it. Final offer.” The man reached out his hand and sighed an exasperated sigh that was far more dramatic than it needed to be. 

“Fine, but I shall remember this, you have my word on that.” It was the best offer Viserys had received so far, he had to take it. It wasn’t enough though, it would run out soon and when it did the only thing of value he would have left to sell would be the little girl crying on the floor next to him. 

As the merchant went to fetch Viserys money, Daenerys looked out to the crowd of onlookers who were now beginning to take their leave and carry on with their days. 

They were all so fat, she thought, all the rich and privileged of Lys, they were so fat their clothes were tight around them, whereas she was so skinny, she could no longer count on her fingers the number of bones that she could see beneath her skin. 

Through her tears, Daenerys noticed a man standing watching them. He was different to all the others. He wore thick wools and leathers and a heavy pair of boots, everyone else wore silks and satins other fabrics more suited to the lysene heat. The man had dark hair, she could see, and his eyes at first looked blue, but as her tear dried, she saw that they were grey. 

Her brother looked down to her now she had stopped crying, but noticing she was distracted, he followed her gaze to the dark haired man. When Viserys first looked at man, he assumed him to be yet another nosy Westerosi sailor coming to snigger at the novelty of the last Targaryen’s. But now the children both caught a glimpse of the sigil on the clasp of his cape. 

It was a wolf. A direwolf. 

“Dany!” Before she even realised what was going on, Viserys grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away from the stall. 

“After them!” A voice behind them shouted, she assumed it was the dark haired man. 

The markets were a labyrinth that day, packed with people and products far more than any other day she had seen it. That was good. It gave them more places to hide. 

Viserys had long legs and was 6 years her senior, she had no hope of keeping up with him especially barefoot as she was. Her brother noticed this and let go of her hand, she thought for a moment that perhaps he would leave her there for whoever was chasing them, but instead he hooked his arms under her armpits and scooped her over his shoulder. 

They arrived in a quiet alley after almost five minutes of running. Daenerys’ brother put her back down and pulled his hood up over his head then reached down and did the same to hers. She tried to ask him what was happening but he clamped a hand over her mouth and hissed at her to be quiet. 

It was a vain attempt however, they had already been caught. Their pursuers had run around and blocked their exit. They were surrounded. Viserys held his sister in front of him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as they turned to face the men behind them. 

“Who are you?” Dany called out when the dark haired man stepped forwards. 

“Quiet girl. These are the usurpers dogs. Lord Stark.” Viserys was scared, he was terrified. Daenerys had never seen him this way before, she had never met any of these people he warned her of either. Their enemies lived in the Sunset Kingdom, and she had left there when she was a baby. But now their enemies were standing right before them, and Daenerys was terrified too. 

“Prince Viserys.” The man who she now knew to be Lord Stark called back. 

“King Viserys, ser, you should learn how to address your betters.” Viserys tried to sound impressive. It did not work, he was one skinny boy holding an even skinnier little girl, they were seven large and heavily armed men. 

“Not ser, I am no knight, just as you are no king.” Lord Eddard retorted in a cold voice before turning his attention to Daenerys. “Girl, what is your name?” His voice was softer this time, but still stern. 

“Daenerys.” She told him. 

“Hold your tongue!” Viserys hissed. 

“She is your sister?” The Lord of Winterfell asked her brother this time, his voice returning to the icy tone that so perfectly matched his land. 

“Why else would I have her with me?” Viserys made an attempt at a sneer. 

“Insolence is unbecoming of a king.” Lord Stark chided to viserys’ dismay. 

“You dare call me insolent. You treasonous-” 

“Save your breath, Viserys I am no longer speaking to you.” Lord Eddard sighed, Daenerys notes that he had the same look on his face as the merchant had when he was addressing her brother, but the Northern Lord was kinder and even smiled slightly when he addressed her. “Daenerys, how old are you child?”

“I-I do not know.” No one had ever asked her that before. 

“She cannot read, nor count past 10. We have not kept track of the years passing, but she was born in the great storm of 284.” Viserys answered for her, his voice had even gained a touch of humility as he began to comprehend the situation. 

“I see.” The grey-eyed man paused and gave the two Targaryens a sceptical look. “I think we should talk.” Lord Stark signalled to one of his men. 

“What makes you think we would go anywhere with you.” Viserys called to Lord Stark as the man began to walk away. 

The Lord of Winterfell turned around to them slowly. He held Viserys’ gaze for a moment before answering. 

“You don’t have a choice.”

They followed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, most of you guessed this so well done and yes to answer this is a multi chapter story I just messed the tags up a bit. Anyway, because this was a short chapter I’ll try and get a longer one up in the next couple of days.


	3. I Stand Here In Her Place

“You can’t seriously expect me to let you take her.” Against Viserys wishes, he and his sister had followed Lord Stark back to his boat. When they first arrived the young kings first thought was that the traitor was going to deliver them to the usurper. “She is my baby sister, the last family I have left.”

“I’ve told you, I will take good care of her you have my w-” Lord Eddard repeated in his irritating dry tone.  
“I could not give less of a shit about your word. You are the usurpers best friend, it’s your fault as much as his that our family is gone!” Viserys has heard enough of this mans promises. What was a wolfs promise to him? Why should he give up the last thing of value he had in the world; his only living family? 

“Your father was a mad man, he murdered more of my family members than I did his. And let’s not forget what Rhaegar did to my sister.” Lord Starks voice had an icy edge as he spoke now, Viserys could see that the man had run out of patience. The Northman would take his sister whether he wanted them to or not, so he might as well get something out of it. 

“Rhaegar loved your bloody sister, he never kidnapped her or raped her you fool, Lyanna went with him willingly because she loved him too.” The story most commonly told in Westeros now claimed that Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, Viserys’ brother, had kidnapped and raped Lyanna Stark, Eddard’s sister. But this was a lie. No one knew who Rhaegar was anymore, he would never have dishonoured himself in that way. And he certainly never would have acted in a way which would so clearly endanger his family. 

“You expect me to believe that?” Lord Stark sounded entirely unimpressed with Viserys side of the story. “I found my sister’s body in the Tower of Joy, Rhaegar may have loved her and she may have loved him but that does not make either of them any less dead. That time is gone now, I cannot bring your family back no more than you can mine, but I can help you now. If you let me take your sister I will keep her safe in Winterfell. She will receive and education, learn to read and write, she will have friends her own age.”

“What about me?” This was Viserys moment he knew. He had to make his sisters custody seem valuable enough to him to warrant reimbursement. “You promise to take care of my sister but what will become of me? Am I to be left her on my own with no home, money or friends? No, if you take her I will need… compensating, shall we say.”

“Very well, I can offer you some coin but not much. I know a place where you can live though.” If Lord Stark has not been so honourable and lordly, he may well have rolled his eyes. 

“Where?” A house would be useful for the young king. It would give him a place to host potential allies, an opportunity or greater funds, a chance to stop running. 

“There’s a woman living in the city, I’ll have my men give you directions. Go there, tell her who you are but do not mention my name or where I’ll be taking your sister. The woman’s name is Lynesse Hightower, tell her you saw what happened with her husband and if she lets you live there you will reward her greatly once you’ve come into your throne.” It was a fair offer, and a Hightower would be sure to support him. 

“How do I know she won’t sell me to the usurper?” Viserys has to be sure, the usurpers hired knives were everywhere. 

“She’s in exile too but seems to prefer her life here, Robert has nothing to offer her.” Lord Stark answered. 

“But I do?” 

“She will think so.” Lord Stark nodded. 

Viserys pauses for a moment. There was truly no need to think ok the deal, he would take it, but he did not want to appear desperate in front of this man. 

“Alright. You have a deal.” 

The two men stood and shook hands. Before Ned could let go, he pulled Viserys towards him. 

“Remember, not a word of this or me to anyone.” The man whispered, though there was no one else in the cabin. 

“Do you take me for a fool?” Viserys pulled his hand away and waited for Lord Stark to open the door. When he did, the Stark men outside brought in the source of all their trouble; Daenerys. The young king crouched down so he could face her. 

Viserys had been recently informed of their current year, and knew enough of his sums to know that he was not yet 18, but was already very tall, just as his brother has been. Daenerys on the other hand could not be older than 9, and was just over half of his height. 

The young king did not want any of the others to hear what he was about to say, so he addressed his sister in Valyrian. 

“I’m going to leave you now, sister.” Viserys began. Tears welled in the girls eyes. “Don’t cry, it is unbecoming of a dragon.”

“But I don’t want you to leave me.” Daenerys wiped her face with the back of her hand. 

“You’re going to be happy in Winterfell. You’re going to be safe.” Viserys knee that his sister would want to hear this. She had never had his ambition. At every possible opportunity she would ask to return to Braavos, to Ser Willem Darry’s house. She could never understand that they would not be welcome there anymore. “If anything should happen to me then you are the last Targaryen, the last Valyrian. Do you know what that means?”

Daenerys sniffed back her tears and nodded. 

“Good.” Viserys put a hand on her cheek. Even for a child her age, she truly was beautiful. “When you are in the North you will be a servant, nothing more, and that is what everyone must believe about you. But you are a princess, you always will be, don’t ever forget it.” 

“I won’t.” Daenerys creased her eyebrows and gave her most determined face. “I’ll be the dragon.”

Viserys smirked. Good, he thought, I will need you to be that when I come into my throne. “Yes, you certainly will.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then looked his sister in the eyes and told her in as serious a voice he could. “Do not marry, Daenerys. No matter how long we are apart for, no matter who you may meet. It is our duty to continue our family’s dynasty, it is your duty. I will come back for you. When I am king, I will come back for you.” 

His little sister looked like she would cry again, but she simply nodded. 

Viserys turned back to the Stark Lord and switched to the Common Tongue. 

“Well, she speaks more Valyrian than Common tongue and can neither read nor right in either, but she will argue with you about anything. You will need to teach her the proper way to behave. Her appetite is far too large for a girl her size as well, so you should make sure to keep her far from the kitchens.” Viserys could hear Dany’s mild protest at those comments, but he would not look back down at her. “She’s a terrible child, truly, but she’s the blood of the dragon and if any harm should come to her, you shall learn the meaning of our words, Lord Stark.”

“I will protect her, you have my word.” Lord Stark nodded one last time, and then his men escorted him from the boat and towards his new home. 

Winterfell

They were early. The castle was clearly unprepared for their arrival. The soldiers on the gates were somewhat reluctant to admit them to the castle, but Ser Rodrik Cassel, the castellan at Winterfell knew his lord at once and had them raise the gates. 

“You’re early, my Lord.” The Old master at arms took Ned’s arm and shook it. “We has not expected you till tomorrow.”

“We overestimated the snows.” Ned was glad to be home, but there would be time for chat later, he had more urgent question. “How’s my wife, she must have delivered by now?”

“Aye my Lord, that she has.” Rodrik beamed. 

“And?”

“You have a boy my lord.” Ned was startled to hear the voice behind him. He turned to see an elderly man dressed in grey robes with a heavy metal chain around his neck. 

“Maester Luwin, have mother and child fared well?” Ned was always comforted by the maester’s presence. 

“The babe caught a slight chill last week, but he’s recovering well. Her ladyship is with him now, she has not left his side since it came on.”

“No, she wouldn’t, would she.” The love his wife had for their children only mad Ned love Catelyn even more. “I will go see her.”

He gestured to Jory to see to their belongings. Behind Ned, Ser Rodrik called a guard to ask where the boys were. The master at arms then ran over to where Ned’s sons were. Ned himself made his way over to Daenerys’ horse. The little princess was a surprisingly good rider for one who had barely ridden before. He helped lift her down from the horse and Jory arrived back with the bag containing his wife’s gift. 

As they walked towards his wife’s chambers, Ned whispered to Daenerys to remind her of the story they would tell everyone. 

Her name was Larra, she had been a slave in Ser Jorah’s household, she had acted as lady Lynesse’s handmaiden. When Ser Jorah was executed Lynesse could not afford to keep any of their staff and was going to sell the girl on, but when Ned saw her he took pity on her age and the wrongs she had been done by one of his bannermen. So he had taken her with them and promised to give her a home and a position in Winterfell. 

They arrived at Catelyn’s door. He nocked. A voice inside invited them in, Ned went in first leaving Jory and Larra outside. 

His wife was sat beside a crib, her hair undone and her legs stretched out beside her. She did not look round when he entered, she was too busy peering down at her son. Ned could tell she had not had enough sleep. She never did when one of the children grew ill. Ned remembered once Jon had come down with the pox, Catelyn had no love for the boy everyone knew, but when the bastard of Winterfell lay near death the lady of Winterfell sat right beside him and prayed for his recovery. 

“Cat.” Ned called, softly. 

Upon hearing his voice, his wife turned to look at him. She smiled  
“I named him Rickon. After your father. I hope you don’t mind.” Catelyn told him. After so long apart, he had been expecting a warmer welcome, but he understood if she was upset. 

“It’s perfect.” He told her. “Sorry I wasn’t there Cat.”

“I understand.” Ned knew she meant it, she was always so generous with him. They held each others gaze for a few moments longer, then Cat stood and walked towards him.  
Ned smiled as his wife embraced him. Catelyn was born in the south, so he has given her the warmest rooms in the castle, and he felt warmer now than he had in years. 

“I brought you back a gift.” Ned told her, still not letting her go. “A few gifts actually.”  
“Gifts?” She chuckled, pushing him away from her slightly and staring up at him. “I don’t think you’ve ever given me a gift outside my name day before.”

He gave her the bag with the ring and the lion skin. She found the child’s gift almost as funny as he did, chuckling as she tucked it around baby Rickon in his crib. She looked at the ring next, then kissed him again and thanked him. Lastly, he took a deep breath in and walked over to the door. 

“And this.” Ned said, opening the door and beckoning the girl inside. “This is Larra, she’s your new handmaiden.”

“I didn’t think I needed a new handmaiden.” Catelyn looked from him to the girl and back to him. She screwed up her eyes and looked suspicious at the now dark haired child. Ned had know that the girls natural silver hair would draw too much attention, so he had bought large amounts of Tyroshi dye from the markets. He could do nothing to conceal her eyes however. 

“She’s not really going to serve you, that’s just what we’ll tell people.” Ned admitted, he could not hide this from her as well. 

“What do you mean?” Catelyn’s face dropped, she knew there was bad knees coming.  
“Tell the lady who you are child.” Ned sighed and looked down at the little girl.  
“Daenerys Targaryen,” Daenerys said, then quickly added, “My Lady.”

Cat froze. She stared down at Daenerys for a moment, then forced as smile and said. “Daenerys, that is a lovely name. Would you mind giving me a moment with my husband?”  
Ned nodded to her. “Go wait outside child.”

Obvs she had closed the door Catelyn exploded into a whispered rage. 

“Have you lost you mind Ned? You brought the mad kings daughter into our home? Our children’s home?” She grabbed at the neck of his jerk and yanked him down so they were face to face. 

“She’s a sweet girl Cat, what harm can she do?” Ned offered in a feeble apology. 

“She can bring Roberts wrath down upon us.” Catelyn was right. “You know more than most how much he hates her family, you think he will forgive you for bringing a Targaryen into your home.”

“No.” Ned whispered, taking her hands and removing them from his neck. “But that’s why we’ll tell everyone she’s your new maid, people will believe that.”

“You think they’ll really believe that you went to Lys to execute a man for selling to slavers, then went and bought your wife a slave?” Cat put her hands on her hips instead glared up at him.

“I’m not a fool, we’ll say she was one of Ser Jorah’s slaves, that when I executed him she would have been sold to someone else. So given that I went to Lys to execute a man for selling to a slaver, do you think the people won’t believe I took pity on one of his slaves?” Ned cocked an eyebrow and matched her gaze. There was nought to be gained from arguing now. The deal was done Daenerys was his responsibility. 

“Fine, but when this goes wrong, it’ll be on your head, Ned.” Catelyn turned away and returned to Rickon’s crib.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the third chapter. Any questions please ask.  
Next chapter dany will meet some more of Winterfell’s residents.


	4. A New Family

Jon had been training with Robb all morning. Theon Greyjoy had been there at the start, but he got frustrated by the younger boys’ lack of archery skill and went to practice by himself. 

It was Robb’s turn this time. He wasn’t very good. Robb was much bigger than Jon, he always had been. The two boys, though mere months apart in age were miles apart in almost everything else. Jon had grey eyes, Robb had blue. Jon had dark hair like his father, Robb had auburn like his mother. Where Jon was quick, Robb was strong. 

Their skills were different too, though neither of them had yet seen their eleventh name days, it was clear which weapon each or them excelled at. For Robb, this was not the bow, much to Theon’s irritation. 

As Robb took his last shot at the target, missing horribly, little Bran laughed from his hiding hole behind the spare arrows. Robb dropped his bow and ran over to grab his little brother. Jon laughed then as Robb lifted Bran into the air and shook him, causing the boy to squeak indignantly until his brother stopped. 

Jon was about to take his turn with the bow and leave his brothers to fight but a loud voice ran out towards them. 

“Boys!” Ser Rodrik called. Robb promptly dropped Bran for fear he was in trouble. “Bow away Robb , how many times must I tell you.” 

“Sorry Ser.” Robb out his bow back with the others, probably very relieved to have gotten off that lightly. 

“What is it Rodrik, you said we were to train till midday.” Jon felt a bit irritated at having lost his turn to practice. 

“That was the plan, but your Lord Father has returned.” Rodrik told them with an uncharacteristically friendly smile. 

“Fathers back!” Bran face lit up at that, jumping up from where he had been dropped. “Where?”

“He’s with Lady Catelyn and the babe. I’d go see him now if I were you, and be quick, he’ll have more than enough to deal with once everything’s unpacked.” Rodrik chuckled as Robb ran after his little brother who had already disappeared inside. 

Jon made as if to follow, them paused and turned to his teacher. 

“Do the girls know he’s back?” He asked. He knew Sansa and Arya would want to see their father, and they had a right to see him before Jon did. 

Rodrik has taught the Stark boys all their lives, he knew Jon’s concerns where Lady Stark would be involved. 

“Maester Luwin has told them, but the septa wants them to finish their lesson first.” It was the truth, though the knight wasn’t sure if it would be enough for Jon, until Robb stuck his head out of the door across the yard and shouted to his half-brother. 

“Come on!” He called. 

When Jon and his brothers finally arrived outside Lady Catelyn’s room, a place Jon had seldom visited before, there was a strange girl waiting outside the door. 

She did not look like anyone Jon had ever met before. Though she could not have been any older than Jon she was far smaller than him, barely taller than bran, and skinny as bran too. Jon could tell from her dress that she was new to the North, staying all wrapped up in layers of furs even though Lady Stark had the warmest chambers in the whole castle. 

The thing which truly stuck out about this girl however, was her beauty. She had long dark hair falling in soft curls all the way down to her waist and her skin was so pale she seemed to glow. The most striking thing about her had to be her eyes; they were purple, violet, like giant amethysts. 

Both Jon and Robb were so surprised at the sight of this girl that neither of them could say a word. So Bran spoke for them. 

“Who are you?” Bran asked, somewhat rudely. 

“Bran!” Robb cried, finding his voice again in time to chide his brother. “Don’t be rude! Sorry, he’s only 5, he doesn’t know how to speak to ladies yet.” 

The girl looked rather confused at Robb’s words and said nothing. Instead she gave Jon a funny look, and he realised that his mouth was open. 

“I’m Robb, this is Bran and that’s Jon.” Robb explained to the girl as she still would not reply. “What is your name?”

She opened her mouth to answer then paused as if to correct herself. 

“Larra.” Larra had a strong accent though Jon was not sure where exactly it was from. “Are you Lord Stark’s sons?” 

“Yes.” Bran told her proudly. 

She nodded at that first, then looked up at the two older boys suspiciously. 

“You are twins?” She asked. 

“No, I’m a bastard.” Jon admitted.

He was slightly embarrassed after, father said we should never use that word in front of ladies. He wondered what this girl would think of him now, this strange bastard boy with no manners who could not seem to control what his mouth was doing. 

“Oh, Sorry.” Larra seemed even more embarrassed than Jon felt, it made him feel slightly better that he wasn’t alone. 

“It’s fine.” Jon mumbled, trying to hide his smile. 

The silence that followed seemed far too long, especially as Bran kept bouncing up and down trying to get a look through the keyhole in his mother’s door. 

“Where are you from, Larra?” Robb broke the quiet. 

“Lys.” 

Jon did not know exactly where that was but his knee it was one of the Nine Free Cities. 

“Are you Fathers ward too now?” Robb sounded very excited at that. 

A few years ago their father had gone to fight in the Greyjoy rebellion and come back with Theon Greyjoy as his ward. Robb liked Theon a lot, often choosing to spend time with him over his own brothers. Jon thought Theon was an ass. 

Larra crinkled her brow and frowned. “I don’t think so, I’m Lady Stark’s new handmaiden.” 

“Oh.” Robb looked endlessly disappointed at that.

Jon knew that was because being a servant would make Larra too low born for the future Lord of Winterfell. Not too low for the bastard of Winterfell though. 

Before the conversation could go any further the door to lady Stark’s room finally opened, and their father stepped out. 

“Father!” Bran cried, almost being knocked out by the door as he was stood so close to it. 

“Hello Bran.” Ned swooped down and lifted the little boy into the air, then held him tight to his side. Their father nodded to his two eldest sons. “I see you’ve met Larra.”

“Yes Father.” The boys chorused. 

“Good, the Lady wants a word with you girl.” Eddard have Larra a small smile as she left them. 

“Why did you buy mother a maid from Lys?” Robb asked, forgetting to be courteous. 

“I didn’t buy her, she was one of Ser Jorah’s slaves. I felt responsible for the wrongs that had been done to her by one of my Bannermen, so I decided to bring her here.” Their father seemed slightly uncomfortable at having to explain this to his sons. “I would appreciate it if you would all be kind to her, make her feel at home here.”

“Of course Father.” Jon had decided that he liked Larra, he would be sure to try and be her friend. 

“We should introduce her to the girls soon. I’m sure Arya would be more than happy for a new friend.” Robb smiled up at his father, then gave in and embraced he side of Ned that Bran wasn’t on. 

“Where are the girls?” Ned asked, giving a fatherly smile to his oldest son as he let go of his father. 

“Septa Mordane wants them to finish their lessons.” Jon answered. 

“Well, I want to see my daughters.” Their father detached Brann from his hip and placed him back on the floor. “So I think we might have to disappoint our good septa.”

The boys grinned at each other as they followed their father away from Lady Stark and their new friend Larra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to use this space to explain the ages a little bit as it will be a bit more important in later chapters. I have ages the Stark kids up a bit and I know I got Rickons birthday off but this is how it is, Bran is 5, Jon and Robb are 10, Arya is 6, Sansa is 8, Theon is 14, Dany is 9. 
> 
> Next chapter there will be a time jump of about a year which is why I’m putting these in now. 
> 
> Hope you’ve enjoyed!


	5. History Repeating

Winterfell

Catelyn knew she would find Ned in the Godswood. He always went there after an execution. 

He was cleaning Ice beneath the weirwood, looking up at her approach. 

“Cat, how are the children.” He returned ice to its sheath. 

“They are fine. They certainly love their new pets.” That morning Ned has taken his three eldest sons out to see him execute a nights watch deserted. They had come back with six direwolf pups. 

He chuckled. “Sorry about that. Bran seemed so quickly attached, I could not bear to separate them.”

“I’m sure we will get used to them.” 

“What’s that?” Ned gestured to the scroll in her hand. 

“There was a raven.” Catelyn fidgeted fidgeted slightly. “From kings landing.”

Her husband held out his hand. She was unsure how he would react, she wasn’t even sure what she thought about it herself. Ned unfurled the parchment and began to read. 

“A tourney?” Ned creased his brow and looked back up at her. “At Harrenhal?”

“I suppose he thinks it’s ironic.” Catelyn scoffed at the kings twisted humour. The last time a tourney had been held at Harrenhal it had started a war that overthrew a dynasty. “Will we go?”

“I will have to, Robert is very clear about that, and Robb will come too as my heir, but the rest of you may stay here if you wish.” Ned sighed and handed her back the letter. 

“I do not wish.” Ned looked up, slightly shocked at her curtness, she explained, slightly abashed. “If all the wardens and liege lords will be there then my father will be there. Lysa too most like if Lord Arryn goes which he surely must. 

“What of Rickon?” Ned asked. 

“He is over a year old now, he will fine with the wet nurse.” Catelyn has not seen her family in years, since her brother Edmure was still half a boy. He would be there too. 

“Should we bring any of the other children too?” Ned sighed, understanding her need to reconnect with her family. “Rickon is too young of course and truthful I would not entirely trust Arya to not get into trouble at a gathering that size.”

Catelyn could not help but agree with that. Arya never meant any ill to anyone, but she did have an awful habit of getting in the way. At Winterfell it was almost sweet, and most of the castle staff enjoyed having the girl around them. But at a tourney, full of strangers and potential foes, there was no end to the risks Aryas curiosity may cause her. 

“I think we should bring Sansa. She is nine now, this tourney will be a prime opportunity to find a match for her.” Cat had not been expecting that, she could see Ned was waiting for her opinion but she did not know what her opinion was. 

She herself had been betrothed twice, first to Brandon, then when he died Ned married her in his brothers place. Sansa had always been a little lady, head full of dreams about gallant knights and kind Lords who would marry her and take her to live in some castle in the south. Perhaps it was best that her parents had a say in who she chose, a girl like Sansa would be easy to manipulate. 

“You’re right.” Catelyn agreed, much to Ned’s shock she could see. “She would have to get along with the boy of course.”

“Of course.” Ned nodded and smiled at her for the first time that day. 

“But at least this way she will get to meet the boy before she marries him.” She gave her husband an accusative look. 

In response, Ned only laughed. Cat laughed too. The two of them stood there chuckling for a moment before returning to the task at hand. 

“Should we bring Bran as well?” Ned have her a wary look, bringing Sansa was one thing but Bran was the second in line and still half a babe. “I know he’s young but as the second son it may time to find him a match too, or even find someone to foster him.”

“Foster him?” Catelyn threw him a withering look. “Ned he’s too young, I cannot send him away!”

“Why?” Ned’s voice was sterner now, but not unkind, he was never unkind to her. “Many noble children go to be fostered by other lords.”

“He’d be a hostage!” Catelyn could not bare the thought of sending Bran away. What if something happened to him? What if he fell ill, or slipped when climbing? What if war broke out again and he was taken by their foes?

“He’d be a guest.” Ned reassured her. “I’m sure you won’t forget that I was fostered. The years I spent in the Eyrie were some of the best years of my life.”

“We’ll take Bran. To find a match for him yes, but nothing more unless both he and I give our consent.”

“Of course, I would never send him anywhere against his wishes.” 

“You are not leaving me here.” Arya Stark stood before her father with her hands on her hips and a furious look on her tiny face. “If Bran is going then I should go too because I’m older!”

“Arya,” Ned tried to sooth his daughters temper, but the little girl was adamant on this. It had always been her way, deny her anything and it became her heart’s desire. 

“No, you’re taking Robb and Bran and Sansa and you’re leaving me here with Jeyne. I hate Jeyne.” Arya’s eyes began to water slightly but she wiped the tears away angrily. 

“Arya you are too young to bring to Harrenhal.” Ned tried to reason with the little girl, but now he had told her she could not come, there was nothing in the world she wanted more. 

Ned thought back to when he’d first introduced his daughters to Larra, Sansa had whispered to her sister that Larra was a slave and not good enough to be friends with the Lord of Winterfell’s daughters. In response to that, Arya had walked right up to the new girl and stuck out her hand. “I’m Arya.” She said. “Sansa doesn’t want to be friends with you, but I do. You can be my best friend.” Sansa’s face has gone bright red and the older girl had stalked off to find Jeyne Poole. 

Arya was not going to be any less stubborn now. 

“But Bran is more than a year younger than me! Your taking him with you!” Arya stomped her little feet and folded her arms. 

Lord Stark sighed, he didn’t want to tell Arya why he was really taking her siblings to the tourney, but the girl wasn’t leaving him much choice. 

“Arya, I’m in Lys taking your siblings to Harrenhal so we can find matches for them.” Arya’s eyes opened wide and she took a step back in fear. Ned chuckled. “If you really want to come you can, but we would have to find you a match too while we were there. Are you ready to find yourself a husband?”

Arya frowned and screwed up her eyes, he had her now. 

“I think I should stay here and look after Jon actually. He’ll get into trouble if I’m not here, and I think Larra would miss me too much if I left.” She decided finally. 

“Good girl.” Ned muttered as he kissed his daughters brow. “Just make sure you do look out for Jon, he’ll be on his own too without Robb and Theon. And don’t go getting in the way too much, Arya Underfoot.”

Arya grinned at the nickname and ran off to find someone else to play with. So, Ned thought, this time we may be safe from history repeating itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a while I know but it’s here now I was working on my Winds of Winter fanfic which is on AO3 now if you’re interested.
> 
> This is a little bit of a filler and next chapter will be in Winterfell again, sorry, but it’ll be interesting I promise. The chapter after that will finally be about Harrenhal and all the exciting stuff will begin.


	6. The Tourney

Winterfell felt empty with her family gone. Arya had never heard the castle so quiet. Normally she would hear the sound of swords from the training yard, as Jon and Robb sparred with each other. But Robb was away and Jon was busy with maester Luwin. Since her father executed the deserted and came back with the wolf pups there was oft a cacophony of howls ringing trough the halls. But her siblings had taken their wolves with them, Nymeria and Shaggydog only howled if they were left alone and Ghost never howled at all. Ghost never made any sound. 

For Arya, the worst thing about being left in Winterfell was that she still had to take her lessons even though Sansa was away. Sansa being away just made it worse for Arya, the Septa would not be distracted by doting on her sister so she had more time to harangue Arya for the state of her stitches. 

Sansa’s best friend, Jeyne Poole, had stayed in Winterfell and she made sure to smirk at Arya whenever the Septa told her off. Arya hated Jeyne, she and Sansa bullied Arya, called her Arya Horseface. Her father had once found her crying in the Godswood after Jeyne and Sansa had spent a heraldry lesson teasing her. He had tried to pursuance her that the older girls were wrong, that she was pretty, but she knew he was lying. 

There was only one thing about her lessons that Arya ever enjoyed; Larra. Sansa thought herself above the Lysene girl and Jeyne followed Sansa’s example, so when Arya sat with Larra the other two would leave her alone. 

In her current lesson, Arya felt almost smug that Larra was there and Sansa was not. Now she had her friend and Jeyne didn’t, she could not say anything without earning herself a look from Larra. 

Aryas new best friend had a way of making people feel however she wanted them to with nothing but a look. It was in her eyes, Arya would tell herself. Larra had violet eyes, no one else Arya had ever met had violet eyes and it clearly made the other girls jealous that someone they thought beneath them was more beautiful than they were. 

Sometimes, rarely, Larra’s look wouldn’t work. When that happened, she would simply turn to Arya and tell her something in Valyrian. As soon as Arya discovered that that Larra could speak other languages she made the girl teach her some. She was proud to say that she was quite good. She was also very proud to say that it drove Jeyne and Sansa to tears almost every time, the girls just could not cope with not being able to understand what was being said about them. 

“Arya.” Larra whispered. “What does this word say?”

Larra struggled with reading, especially in the common tongue. But Arya was good at reading and did not mind helping her friend. 

“Elephant.” Arya told her, leaning in to see how far behind Larra was. “It’s an animal I think.”

“Yes it is.” Larra nodded. “I saw one once, in Volantis. They carry litters there.”

“You’ve been to Volantis?”

Larra nodded. “We went there before we went to Lys, where your father found us.”

Arya furrowed her brow at that. We? Who had she been with. 

“Arya.” The Septa called, interrupting her question. “I hope you’re reading over there and not just talking.” 

“I was just helping her with a word.” Arya whined 

“Help more quietly.” Septa’s Mordane scolded before turning back to teaching little Beth Cassel. 

Arya spent the rest of that lesson sulking silently and giving occasional furious glances at Jeyne who was clearly laughing about Larra needing help to read to the girl she was sat with. Thankfully Larra was too busy reading to notice. 

That evening, supper was quiet. Arya, her remaining sibling, Larra and some of the castle staff were eating in the Small Hall that night as Lord and Lady Stark were both absent. Jon arrived late, he had been with Maester Luwin all day receiving some more traditional schooling as he had no one to train with. 

“Move up little sister.” He said as he squeezed onto the bench beside Arya. 

Arya had to shuffle along slightly and nudged Larra’s arm for her to do the same. 

“What have you been up to today then?” Jon asked, grabbing some bread with one hand and ruffling Aryas hair with the other. 

“Stupid needlework in the morning.” She grumbled, Jon just laughed. “It was boring. We were reading in the afternoon though.”

“What were you reading?” Jon asked between mouthfuls of chicken and peas. 

“The Dance of Dragons.” 

Jon scoffed and raised an eyebrow at her. “Still? You were reading that last week.”

“It’s a big book.” Arya said indignantly, slinging a piece of bacon at her brothers head for good measure. 

“Thank you.” Jon muttered as he picked bacon out of his hair. “Are the Targaryen’s still killing each other then. In your book.”

“Obviously, that’s what it’s all about.” She replied sulkily. 

“Why are they killing each other?” Arya turned to Larra as her friend finished her food and joined the conversation. 

Larra always ate fast, never stopping or slowing down until she had finished. Aryas mother had tried to teach her to eat in a more ladylike way but it hadn’t worked. Sansa had once told Arya that the reason Larra ate that was was because she was used to living on the streets, and if she didn’t eat quickly there then someone else would come and take the food from her. Arya didn’t usually believe the things her sister told her but this time it made sense, Larra did have a habit of putting her arms on the table too, like she was protecting her plate. 

“Two of them thought they were they were the heir to the throne, but only one could rule.” Arya told her. 

“Which two?” Larra’s accent had become less strong since she arrived but sometimes it was still very clear when she spoke. 

“Aegon and Rhaenyra.” Jon answered this time, earning himself a small punch from Arya for interrupting. “Ow”

“So who was the real heir?” Larra asked, leaning forwards in interest. 

“Well Rhaenyra was older, but Aegon was a boy so he was the real heir.” Jon said, reaching over the table for an apple. 

Larra creased her brow and frowned slightly but didn’t say anything. 

“That’s not true.” Arya said. “Rhaenyra was made the Princess of Dragonstone by her father, he wanted her to be queen. It was Aegon who was wrong.”

Jon shrugged and took another bite out of his apple. “Either way, it doesn’t matter now does it? Aegon is dead. Rhaenyra is dead. All the Targaryens are dead.”

“That’s not true.” Larra suddenly seemed very serious. Arya wondered if she was sad about everyone dying, or if she was angry that they kept talking about things that she didn’t know about. “Not all the Targaryens are dead.”

“Yes they are.” Jon said. He gave the Lysene girl an apologetic look, he always felt bad if he upset her. Arya knew Larra wouldn’t mind, Jon always stole her something from the kitchens as an apology if she was annoyed with him. “Sorry, but they all died during Roberts Rebellion. It’s true, father told me and Robb once.” 

Larra looked like she was going to argue back but stopped herself when she saw that some people around them had stopped to listen in. 

Daenerys was still annoyed about what Jon had said at supper the night before. He hadn’t meant to upset her, but she hated the way he spoke about dead Targaryens so calmly, like it didn’t matter that her whole family was dead. Well, not her whole family. 

Dany hadn’t always been so invested in her family, it hadn’t mattered as much to her in Essos where all she had really cared about was having enough food to eat. She had never understood why Viserys was always so angry, never knew who he was talking about when he preached about the great Targaryen Kings and their dragons of old. Now she understood. 

In the year she had already spent at Winterfell dany had learned a lot about her family history, about Valyria and the doom, Aegon the Conqueror, Jaehaerys and Alysanne, and Roberts Rebellion. She had learned why her family fell as well; madness. Madness and love. 

She had known that her family we’d brother to sister, so she had always assumed that she would wed viserys when she was old enough, but she hadn’t know what that incest had caused. 

“Larra!” A cry came from outside her door and less then a second later had barged into her room and jumped onto her bed, pinning her under her blankets. “Are you awake?”

“I am now.” She chuckled, wriggling herself backwards so she could sit up. “What is it?”

“Septa Mordane has fallen ill.” Arya was practically glowing as she said this. “Maester Luwin says she must have eaten something. He’s going to have to look after her ‘til it passes so Jon won’t have anything to do either!”

Larra smiled, even if she was annoyed now, Jon was one of her best friends and she always enjoyed being with him and Arya. 

“Get dressed.” The little lady commanded. “I’ll go get Jon up.”

She did as she was bid and thought some more in her family. She had only ever known Viserys, and he had been cruel. When first she met the Stark siblings, she had been surprised at how they treated each other. Other than Sansa and Arya who argued constantly, they were never cruel or hurt each other. They were all friends, Robb never shouted at bran the way Viserys had at her, not even when the little boy had almost blinded him practicing archery, Robb simply laughed at his brothers terrible aim. Jon was not even a full Stark, but his half siblings treated him better than Dany’s brother had ever treated her. 

Daenerys often looked at the way Jon would show Arya how to hold a bow, or teach her some of what he and Robb learned, how he would give her an alibi if ever she was in trouble, which she often was. Viserys should have been just as good a brother to me, she thought, he should have protected me but he didn’t, he blamed me and he was cruel to me. 

Her brothers last request had been going around her head for months. He told her not to we’d anyone. She knew what that meant now, Viserys wanted to marry her. 

That wasn’t going to happen. 

It was still summer but the weather in Winterfell could never be described as warm. She could see her breath on the window and wrapped herself up well in one of the black wool dresses Lady Stark had given her, then she put a cloak on over that. 

Arya was waiting for her downstairs. Once Jon had joined them and they broke their fast the little lady of Winterfell led the two of them outside. Nymeria and Ghost came padding over to them on the way. The Stark children were supposed to keep their wolves either with them or chained in the kennels, but since Lady Stark was away Jon, Arya and Rickon had all taken to letting their pups roam the castle as they wished. They had also begun to let them on their beds at night which had been strictly forbidden when they first brought the pups home. 

“Where are we going?” Daenerys asked. 

“To the Godswood.” Arya called back over her shoulder she she dragged her two friends by their hands. 

“What are we going to the Godswood for?” Jon asked, casting a cautious look at Dany to see if she was still upset. 

“You’ll see when we get there.” Arya tugged on their arms to make them move faster. 

When they finally arrived in the Godswood Arya led them right up to the hearttree. She made a quick run around to check that no one else was there. 

“Take this.” Arya said, handing Jon a skinny white stick that she had clearly tried to turn into a sword for herself. The girl darted behind the Weirwood again and pulled another stick sword out from underneath a root. She looked expectantly up at Jon and Larra. 

“What’s this for then?” Jon asked, laughing slightly. 

Arya frowned. “The fight of course.”

“What fight?” Daenerys felt very confused. 

“Well I though, because we weren’t allowed to go to Harrenhal, we could have our own tourney here. Just the three of us.” Arya bit her lip and looked up nervously, she had clearly been planning this since she heard she wouldn’t be going to Harrenhal. 

Daenerys looked over at Jon who was clearly trying to hide a smile. 

“I think it’s a great idea.” He said finally, lifting up his stick sword to inspect it. “This is good, you made them yourself?” He knew the answer already but he wanted to make Arya happy. 

She nodded enthusiastically and turned to Larra. “I have another one for you if you’d like.”

“I think I will watch this time, but thank you.” She smiled and sat herself down on one of the Weirwood’s great white roots. 

“So what exactly will we be doing in this tourney.” Jon asked. 

Arya beamed and began to explain the rules to them, gesturing wildly with her hands as she went into every detail of the events she had planned. As the girl spoke the two wolves, Ghost and Nymeria, came and lay down beside Dany, resting their heads on her lap.

At the end of Arya’s explanation, Jon decided that it would be best if they used some real kit for a few of the events and ran off to the armoury to get some things. 

He came back five minutes later, running full speed and looking over his shoulder. He dropped the armour and fell down laughing to the floor. 

“What happened?” Daenerys asked. 

“I thought Mikken almost caught me when I went for the helmets. Don’t worry, he didn’t see me.” He smiled up at her from where he lay beside the pool. Daenerys felt herself smiling back despite still being a little annoyed. 

“What did you bring?” Arya launched herself at the pile on the floor. “Helms, good now we won’t lose our eyes. Arm things?”

“Vambraces.” Jon nodded. “And a bow too. I could only carry one quiver of arrows so we’ll have to try and not lose too many of them.”

“Alright then.” Said Larra. “Let the games begin.”

Jon let Arya win most of the games they played. It was only fair seeing as it was Arya’s tourney. Their first round was a “meley” composed of just him and Arya in which she was suddenly possessed of enough strength and combat ability to nock her brother to the floor. Things almost had to stop there when Ghost mistook their play for his master being in trouble and leapt up to help Jon. This of course prompted Nymeria to join the fray as she jumped in to defend Arya. 

It took some persuading to make the direwolves sit back down again and Larra had to hold onto them for the rest of the round incase they tried to join in again. 

They kept the meley going for at least half an hour, with both contestants growing very tired by the end. Jon found himself looking over to Larra every now and then, to check she was watching them. Watching him. Arya won the meley of course, and Larra clapped and cheered for her friend from the sidelines. 

“Well done little sister.” Jon said as Arya gave him a hand up off the floor. He ruffled her hair then put both of their stick sword down beside Larra at the weirwood. “What did you think?”

“You both did very well.” She stood up and brushed the dirt of her dress, then in an aside to him she whispered. “Don’t let her win next time.”

“Why?” Jon asked. 

“She’ll never learn if you pretend she’s beating you. I’m sure Arya would much rather lose and learn something than win and never improve.” Larra had a point. Jon had always planned on showing Arya how to use a sword, he had shown her how to shoot a bow once but had never had chance to help her with it again. 

“What’s next then Arya?” Larra asked as the small girl came over to them. 

She chewed on her lip for a minute. “I think we should have a break now.”

“I have to agree with you there.” Jon said sitting down beside Larra and letting his head hit the tree. 

“We can’t just sit around here.” Larra protested. “I have been sitting all morning.”

“I could get us some food.” Jon suggested. “Robb and I always take food from the kitchens, no one ever sees us.”

“Yes.” Arya decided. “You get food and then we can do something else after.”

Jon took longer getting the food than he had getting the armour. He returned in the same style though, running as fast as he could and looking over his shoulder for any pursuing adults. 

He brought left overs from breakfast and their meal the night before. He had to stuff it into a sac so everything was a little squashed but no one minded. They used the sac as a table to lay out their meal. Arya spent the whole time pestering Larra for stories about from her time in Essos. She was reluctant at first, but Arya was hard to resist for long and eventually caved in and told them about when she had been in Volantis. 

One thing that stuck out to Jon through her story, was that she kept referring to herself as “we” and “us”. It could have been an issue with her translation as Larra still had some trouble with the Common Tongue, but every so often she would make as to say something then stop herself, as if he and Arya weren’t supposed to know about something. 

Once they had finished their food and Arya heard her full of Larra’s stories they moved on with the next round of the tourney; archery. 

Their target was attached to an ironwood tree opposite the weirwood, the contestants would each shoot 3 arrows. Jon went first, doing quite a good job. He offered to help Arya, but she insisted on doing this one by herself. She didn’t do as well as he did, but she didn’t miss the target once. If it had been bran in her place there would be arrows sticking out of every tree except the one they were aiming for. 

“Who has won?” Larra asked. 

She still stood beside the weirwood, her cloak wrapped tightly around her as the temperature was beginning to fall. 

“Jon.” Arya said, beckoning her friend closer. “He shot all three of his arrows closer to the middle than I did.”

“How?” Larra asked, cocking her head to one side and squinting at the target. 

“I can show you, if you want.” Jon held his breath as he waited for her response. She looked slightly surprised at first, her violet eyes opening wide as she looked at him. 

Then she smiled. “Yes, please. I would like that.”

Jon picked up the bow and tried to hide his grin. “Give me your hand.” She held out her hand. “Hold the bow here like this, yeah that’s right.” He picked up an arrow and held her other hand. “Now put the arrow against the string, there’s a notch just there, and let the shaft rest against the hand that’s holding the bow.” 

He took a moment to move her hands on the bow so she had the correct grip. When she drew the bow he stood behind her and helped her stance, lifting her elbow up and raising her right hand up closer to her cheek. He looked at her feet next. 

“Just move this one slightly.” Jon said, putting his hands on her waist while he tapped her back leg outwards slightly with his foot. “That’s perfect. Now just look where you want the arrow to go and move your bow arm a little if you think you need to.”

He stepped back to let Larra do the rest. She moved her bow arm up slightly, then released. The arrow sailed through the air and hit the target right in the middle. Arya sitting at the gasped, jumping up and clapping for her friend. 

“That is good?” Larra turned to him, smiling her beautiful smile. 

“It’s better than good, it’s the best.” Jon smiled back, staring straight into her violet eyes. 

The three of them laughed some more at Larra’s success, and the Lysene girl took two more shots at the target both of which hit very close to the first. It was well past midday by the time they moved onto the next and final round; Jousting. 

Arya’s idea was for them to ride the wolves, but Jon had to let her down there. 

“We can’t ride the wolves Arya, they’re far too small.” He reaches out and ruffled her hair. “And besides, jousting against each other would be much too dangerous.”

“Why?” Arya whined

“Because you are too small and we have no proper armour, a lance would go straight through you if we had real one’s.” The lances they had were two conveniently shaped branches, no longer than 5 feet long but could still do some hard, especially to someone of Arya’s size. 

“Alright.” Arya said huffily. “We can hang a ring from a tree and take turns at running at it.”

It was hardly jousting, but it was safe and could be fun so Jon consented. Once again Arya went first, running and missing the ring by a good 10cm every time. She did not mind, by this point, Jon suspected she probably quite tired, it had been a very exciting day for a 7 year old. On his turn Jon did significantly better, he was slightly low on his first attempt but got his stick straight through on the third. 

Larra and Arya clapped from where they stood at the weirwood. As he walked back to them Arya began to give her closing commentary. 

“We all won today. I won the spar, Larra won the archery and Jon won the joust.” 

Jon stopped where he stood. “I won the joust?” He already knew that but an idea came into his head suddenly. 

“Yes of course.” Arya said, rolling her eyes. 

“Well then.” Jon looked up to a low hanging branch above his reach. He jumped to grab a leaf, it was big and red as ghosts eyes. He walked forwards, suddenly feeling slightly nervous, he held out the leaf. “Larra, I name you my queen of love and beauty.”

The Lysene girl looked very confused at that, and Jon wondered if she even knew what that was. But then she smiled and her amethyst eyes seemed to light up as she took the leaf. 

“Thank you Jon.” She said, and to his complete amazement she leaned forwards and kissed him on the cheek. 

They both smiled at each other, cheeks turning pink, not breaking eye contact until they heard the sound of Arya pretending to vomit into the bushes. Larra laughed and Jon ran over and spun Arya into the air, ruffling her hair as he set her back on the floor. 

Suddenly, Larra stopped laughing, and the Stark siblings turned to see if she was alright. She put her hand to her cheek and looked down at her fingers, confused. Jon had no idea what she was doing until he felt it too. First he thought it was rain, then Arya gasped beside him and ran out from the cover of the weirwood. 

“Summer snows.” He breathed, following his sister and grabbing Larra by the hand as he went. She was reluctant at first, she had never seen snow before, but she followed when she saw Arya smiling. 

It was cold, but he did not care. He simply tipped his head back and let the tiny flakes land on his cheeks. The cold winds blowing his hair felt better than any beam of heat from any summer sun. He opened his eyes and set his head straight. Arya was running in circles, jumping and trying to catch the white specs as they fell. Larra just stood there, watching the snow as it fell down around her, letting it settle in her dark hair. She saw him staring and smiled, cheeks turning from pink red. 

Jon walked towards her, glancing over at his sister to see her reaction but Arya was so excited by the weather she didn’t even see him. Instead she was running and jumping around with Nymeria. Larra was still holding onto her leaf, but Jon needed her hands so he threaded it into her braid. 

She looked sceptical when he first tried to hold her hand but she let him anyway. He had only ever properly danced at a few special occasions, he vaguely remember dancing with Alys Karstark when her family had once visited several years ago. That had been strange though, because he had not know her, he did know Larra though, so this dance felt much better. 

When Arya finally came back to them she was very out of breath, but she still had enough energy to frown and ask. “What are you doing?”

“We are dancing.” Larra laughed, spinning as she spoke. 

“Why?” Arya demanded. 

“Because it is snowing, and we’re having fun.” Jon told her. 

Everything was perfect. Arya was happy, she and Jon were dancing and snow was falling. Already the ground was covered in white and their feet were soaked, but Daenerys could not have cared less. Lady Stark had taught her how to dance soon after she first arrived. She enjoyed dancing even if she rarely had a chance to do it, she enjoyed it even more with Jon. 

Daenerys decided that she had fully forgiven him when he gave her the Weirwood leaf. 

They stayed in the Godswood until it started to get dark. 

“We should go now.” Arya yawned. 

“Alright.” Jon let go of her, and she realised for the first time just how cold it was. The snow had fallen into her head and her face and was melting into her hair. 

“Larra.” Arya gasped. 

“Yes, what’s wrong?” She was slightly surprised by the look on her friends face. 

“Your hair.” Jon replied. “The snow is turning your hair white.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve decided not to write a Harrenhal chapter purely because I want this fic to be more from Jon/ Arya/ Dany’s perspectives so I want the events at Harrenhal to be seen through them hearing stories from siblings etc.
> 
> Anyway, here’s chapter 6, hope you like. If you think it’s rushed then sorry but I put a lot of effort into this and I’m super proud of it. If you need any explaining then basically it’s just three friends having fun while their other friends are away. 
> 
> Also don’t worry, the Dany’s hair going white thing will be resolved in the next chapter.


	7. The feast

Lord and Lady Stark had returned late last night. It had been so late that most of the people in Winterfell had been asleep. So Jon, Arya and Daenerys had not been able to be there welcome. 

It had been over a week since their tourney, and to Daenerys great relief, she was still friends with Jon and Arya. And even more importantly, her secret was still safe. She had told Arya only that her hair truly was “white” and that she was ashamed of it as it made her look old and ugly. Arya had been sweet and told her she could never look ugly, then the little girl had even helped to re-dye the bits of her hair where it had come off.

Jon on the other hand was a deal harder to explain to. He was eleven and had had many lesson with maester Luwin. He knew what silver hair and purple eyes meant, so Daenerys had decided to be honest with him.

_ “_I dyed it black to disguise myself. Your father knew It would be too obvious who I was if I had all the looks, and he could not change my eye colour so he had to change my hair.”

She had told him once they’d put Arya to sleep.

“So this whole time, you’ve been lying to us about who you are? Lying to me?” Jon had been upset when she told him, which just made her upset as well.

“I’m sorry Jon but I had to! Your father said if anyone ever found out who I was they would tell King Robert and he would have both me and your father killed!”

Daenerys had done well to keep herself hidden in the year that she had spent at Winterfell, but she was secretly quite glad that Jon would know the truth too.

“I’m sorry.” Jon looked down at his feet embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have been upset, it’s just a bit of a surprise. I’m guessing your name isn’t Larra then.”

“No”

“What is your real name then?” He looked at her again, right in her eyes.

“Daenerys Targaryen.” She told him, swallowing slightly.

Jon just smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Daenerys.”

Now they were having a feast to celebrate the return of the Starks. Arya was sat at the high table with Robb, Sansa, Bran, Rickon and their parents. Jon was sat at the back with Daenerys. They always sat like that.

At First Lady Stark had wanted Daenerys sitting closer to them as she was her handmaiden and a noble lady, Lord Stark had had to remind her that _Larra_ was a slave from Lys, and it wouldn’t be seen as appropriate for her to sit with them. Daenerys didn’t mind though, she liked to sit with Jon, it was far more fun at the back besides.

One of the stable boys was making some rude jape for the rest of the tables amusement. She smiled and laughed a bit with the rest, but in truth she had no idea what he was saying. Jon turned to her.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“Yes of course.” She smiled.

“It’s just you seem a little quite.” He said.

“I’m fine really, I’m just a bit worried about what you father will say. When he finds out I told you, I mean.” She said quietly, then quickly took another bite of chicken so that she did not have to say anything else.

“He wouldn’t be angry, he’s never angry with us.” Jon sighed. “But if you’re really worried we don’t have to tell him.”

She was still chewing her food, but Daenerys smiled at him warmly. 

After the feast, Lord Stark called a small meeting with all his family. He brought them all into his solar and bade then sit.

“As you all know, we have just returned from a tourney at the castle of Harrenhal. Not all of you were there however, so Jon, Arya and Rickon, you will not know about what we have arranged for your siblings.”

Jon stood still, and he could see beside him that even Arya had stopped her fidgeting.

“Firstly, I know that the Sumer we are in is a long one and shows little sign of ending soon, but we all know that Winter Is Coming. And when it does I am not sure how well equips the North will be. We have been through two wars in the last decade and we have lost much of our population and resources. So I decided that what would be best for our house is an alliance with the Reach, given that they have the most fertile land.”

Jon looked over to his other siblings. Sansa looked very excited just as she had ever since they had returned, Bran looked slightly miserable, and Robb looked surprisingly Lordly. He stood up straight and kept his eyes on the wall, unmoving. Jon wandered which of his siblings was being married to the Reachmen.

“So to secure an alliance and food through Winter, Robb has kindly agreed to a betrothal between himself and Lord Mace Tyrell’s daughter Margaery. We have discussed it with both the King and Lord Mace, all were happy to give their consent.” Jon looked to his brother, and thought he could see a smile creeping across his lordly face.

Beside Jon, little Arya was trying her hardest not to laugh. Lord Stark was not finished though, so Jon could not yet ask his brother about his bride to be.

“Bran has also agreed to some changes. Shortly after his seventh nameday, he will travel to Dragonstone to be fostered by Lord Stannis Baratheon and later wed Lord Stannis’ daughter Shireen.” Jon had not been expecting that, neither had Arya apparently.

“What!” She shouted. “You can’t send Bran away he belongs here, in Winterfell!”

“I know you think that Arya, but lots of noble children move away from home to be fostered. I myself was fostered in the Eyrie and those were some of the best years of my life. Besides, Bran wants to go, isn’t that right?” Their father turned to Bran who still didn’t look entirely happy.

“Yes father.” He said, in a dull voice. Lady Stark winced at the sound but Lord Stark was content with it and continued his announcements.

“So you must all prepare yourselves for Bran to leave.”

Arya looked as if she were about to cry, but instead she ground her teeth and folded her arms tightly across her chest.

“What about Sansa?” She asked angrily. “Robb and Bran are both being married off, that means Sansa must be going too.”

“There’s no need to be rude about it Arya. I hadn’t realised you wanted me gone so eagerly.” Sansa said with a slightly smug smile.

“Girls.” Their father growled. “You’re right, we did try to find a match for Sansa- don’t roll your eyes at me Arya Stark, well have to do the same for you soon. As I said, we looked for a match and I can’t say we were short on suitors.”

Sansa really did look smug at that, _that’s not very ladylike at all. _

“Though nothing is confirmed yet, but King Robert seems very keen for Sansa to marry his son and heir Prince Joffrey.”

Jon watched Arya try to hide her gagging as her sister smiled sweetly at their parents. Even Robb rolled his eyes a little at the mention of Prince Joffrey. 

“So, what are they all like?” Jon asked Robb after their family meeting was finished and the two boys took advantage of Ser Rodrik being distracted elsewhere in the yard. “Your betrothed I mean.”

“Don’t you start too.” Robb whined. “Sansa spent the whole of the tourney and the journey back pining over Prince Joffrey. I honestly don’t know what she sees in him, he’s ugly and he’s a complete prick.”

Robb didn’t often curse, so Jon knew Joffrey must have really gotten under his brothers skin.

“What so bad about him.” He asked as he jumped up and sat on the windowsill.

“What’s not bad about him would be a better question.” Robb rolled his eyes. “He spent all week telling us how amazing he was and how great a king he would be. Greywind didn’t like him, Joffrey refused to call the wolves by their names. Not even Lady, though I doubt that Sansa really cared. He’d always just say _those beasts_.”

Jon frowned. He knew that wasn’t the whole story but the prince did sound awful. He wanted to ask some more about him but Jon could see how irritated Robb was becoming and decided not to upset his brother any further.

“What about your Lady Margaery then, what’s she like.”

Robb’s anger left his face and was replaced by a poorly hidden smirk. “She’s alright. We spent a lot of time together while our fathers were talking. I thought all the southron girls would be like Sansa or worse, not that I don’t love Sansa, she’s my sister obviously I love her, but I couldn’t ever marry someone like her. She’s just too…” he struggled for words. “Anyway, Margaery is great. We went ridding and Hawking, she’s good at both and much better than me at hawking. I think you’ll really like her.”

“I hope so.” Ser Rodrik noticed their lack of concentration and began to walk towards them. The two boys grabbed their bows and hurriedly began shooting arrows at their targets. Their master at arms watched them for a few minutes, then became distracted again as Theon only just managed to stop Bran from shooting one of the hounds which had inadvertently wandered in front of the target.

“What about Bran?” Jon asked as Ser Rodrik’s voice boomed through the yard. “He doesn’t seem all that happy about leaving, no matter what father says.” 

Robb sighed and pulled Jon into a corner so no one else could see them. He looked at his feet and chewed on his lip before answering.

“I’m not supposed to know about this, so you can’t tell anyone, promise?” Robb raised his eye brows in a way that meant this was serious.

“Promise.”

“Alright, so it’s true that father wanted a match between me and Margaery do that we could have better relations with the Reach so that we’ll have enough food for Winter. And father told the King everything he and Lord Tyrell were doing, only the King doesn’t really trust Lord Mace or Lady Ollena. Father said it was really Tywin and Cersei who didn’t like them, but the King still has to listen to them.”

Robb was speaking very quickly, and Jon wasn’t entirely sure who all these people were.

“What does this have to do with Bran though?” Jon raised his eyebrows sceptically.

“It has to do with Bran _and_ Sansa. That’s the thing, the King wants to make sure that the relations between the Kingdoms are all good, especially with himself. That’s why Robert suggested Sansa marry Joffrey and also said that Bran might be a good match for his niece Shireen. I think they were also planning on having the Princess marry one of Margaery’s brothers, the oldest one, Willas. That’s what she told me, anyway.”

Jon took a moment to process all that he had heard. “So the King doesn’t trust father?” That seemed to be the gist of what Robb had said.

“No! King Robert _does_ trust father, it’s Queen Cersei that doesn’t trust him. I don’t think she trusts anyone though.” Robb looked around the corner. “Ok, Ser Rodrik is taking Bran inside. I think we’ll be done today. Do you want to go for a ride later? Greywind needs a run.” 

“Of course.” Jon followed his brother back into the castle. He could smell lunch, and his mouth instantly started to water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for the wait. I was preoccupied with my aSoIaF fic. 
> 
> I got a comment last time about the date on this fic so I tried to fix that this time, thank you for pointing that out and pls anyone let me know if it’s still being weird.
> 
> Also, the bit Robb says about Sansa is in no was anything Starkcest, i reread it just now and it might seem a bit iffy, but it really is just Robb trying to say how he thinks Margaery is better than the other southern girls.
> 
> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think :)


	8. The reunion

It had been almost three years since Arya had seen her brother Bran. The first year had been the worst, she’d found herself missing him far more than she would have expected. She missed climbing trees with him, and being angry when he raced ahead and ran off along the castle walls.

The wolves had all cried when Summer left too, Bran almost hadn’t been allowed to take him as father feared he might not like Dragonstone, or that he would be a pest. But Bran cried when their father told them that, so he changed his mind and wrote Lord Stannis to expect a direwolf along with a ward.

Now, Arya would see him again and she could barely contain her excitement. Everyone else in the castle was excited too, not for exactly the same reasons she knew but there was still a hum of excitement running through Winterfell as all eagerly awaited what was to come. Robb’s wedding.

Arya’s eldest brother had turned 14 several moons ago, only shortly before Margaery Tyrell has turned that age too. Their fathers had decided that 14 was the age the two would wed when Robb and Margaery had first met at the Tourney. And so now, to much of Lord Starks annoyance, the Tyrell’s were travelling to Winterfell with near 200 retainers and what seemed like half of their bannermen. But the cause of real excitement was the guest who had only recently decided to attend. King Robert.

Though she wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, Arya knew that the Kings Hand had died and now Robert was coming to Winterfell to see Robb get married and to ask Aryas father something.

For Arya though, the best part was that Bran was coming home. There had been talk of him not coming, but Robb had insisted that his brother be there and King Robert himself asked Stannis to be there and to bring his family.

Beside Arya, Nymeria whined. She hadn’t been out of the castle yet today.

“Come on then you.” She said, hugging her wolf and starting to run towards the open castle gates.

It oft surprised Arya just how big her wolf had grown since they first found the pups. Arya was l ten now and Nymeria was nearing four, and she stood as tall as her human master if not taller. It made Arya grin to see people moving out of their way, and in a few cases jump over walls or duck to the ground.

As the Stark siblings grew older and their wolves bigger, their father had permitted them to go into the Wolfswood alone as long as people knew they had gone and they had their wolves with them. Except for Rickon, of course, he was still too little.

On her way out, Arya passed Jon and Larra sneaking into the Godswood to practice archery. Larra was getting very good, she was already far better than Jon, though he still insisted that _he_ should be the one to give her lessons. No one else knew about it of course, and Arya suspected that the two of them enjoyed their secret practices together far more than having Ser Rodrik as Larra’s teacher.

In the 4 years since Arya had first met Larra, the two girls had become practically inseparable. It hadn’t been long before Arya decided that Larra more of a sister to her than Sansa had ever been. The Lysene girl had never argued with or shouted at her, never mocked or teased or made her cry. _Well, not intentionally at least._

Larra would never have been cruel to Arya, but it did sometimes upset her that she was always somewhat outshone by her sisters. Everyone had always known that Sansa would be beautiful when she grew up, and so even now at age twelve she was far prettier than Arya. Sansa had the blue eyes and auburn hair of the Tully’s, while Arya had the grey eyes and dark brown hair of the Starks, along with the unfortunately long face which had earned her the cruel nickname Horseface from Jeyne Poole.

However beautiful Sansa was or would be however, was nothing when compared to Larra. Her mother’s handmaiden had once told Arya that she dyed her hair black because she felt ugly with her naturally white hair, but Larra could never be ugly.

She was only a year older than Sansa, but she was far prettier. Somehow, her face seemed to shine whenever she smiled. Her eyes had always set her apart from everyone else in the North, but now they seemed to be the most beautiful part of her. More than once, Arya had heard people compare them to amethyst, though she herself had never seen one so she could not comment.

Jealous as Arya was of her friend’s appearance, she did not envy the attention it got her from the men at Winterfell. Theon Greyjoy especially would always try his best to sit next to her at dinner, and had even started following her around the castle much to both Larra and Jon’s annoyance.

Arya’s attention was brought back to the present by Nymeria stopping in front of her so quickly she fell over the wolf.

“What are you doing?” Arya shouted as she picked herself off the ground and inspected the newest graze to her knee. “Nymeria why did you stop?”

She walked around to the front of her direwolf and tried to see where it was looking. The forest ahead was thick and dark so Arya struggled to see through, but she could hear the growl in Nymeria’s throat as the great direwolf crouched down to the floor, ready to attack.

Then the sound of the growl changed, and seemed to be coming from two places, and Arya saw the two golden eyes flashing in the thicket ahead of them. Arya stepped forward to have a closer look, but before she could even see what was happening she was on the floor again.

She could not see her assailant or Nymeria but the wolf did not come to her aid and she found herself rolling across the floor in an attempt to wrestle her attacker off of her. She finally threw them off and grabbed a stick from the floor to defend herself. Only when she ran at her attacker, screaming at the top of her lungs and waving her stick in the air did they finally say something.

“Arya, wait! Stop!” He shouted, shielding himself with his arms.

Arya dropped her arms. “Bran?” The boy took his hands away from his face and beamed at her. “Bran!”

She ran over and hugged her little brother so hard she was worried she might break him. When she finally let him go she noticed Nymeria and Summer behind Bran were playfully bounding around each other.

“What are you doing here?” She asked her brother after they had both caught their breath.

“I’m here for Robb’s wedding.”

“Yes I know that stupid, I mean what are you doing in the Wolfswood?” Arya rolled her eyes.

“I told Lord Stannis I had to take Summer into the woods or he would run off, he only let me because I told him I knew these woods were safe and no one else is allowed in these parts. Besides, no one would dare attack me with Summer here.” Bran grinned and Arya grinned too.

She hugged him again. “Come on, let’s go home.”

—————————————————————

Lord Stark had told Daenerys that she had to be there to greet the king to avoid suspicion, but that she should stand back in the crowd with Jon and preferably stand behind someone tall. He had also told her to keep her eyes on the floor, as they were the most conspicuous aspect of her appearance.

It made Daenerys more than a little anxious to think of the King being in Winterfell. All she could think of were the stories Viserys used to tell her about Roberts Rebellion, how he killed their brother Rhaegar and laughed as the bodies of Rhaegar’s young children were layed down at his feet.

She wondered what this man would be like, and what Lord Stark would say to his offer of being the Hand of the King.

Daenerys had been in one of her and Jon’s secret archery lessons when Arya had come running in to tell them that the King was coming through Winterstown at that very moment.

Jon had to help Daenerys take her arm guards off and tighten the sleeves on her dress so no one would know what they had been doing.They ran after Arya and out into the yard.

In all of her time in Winterfell she had never seen it so busy, everyone was running to find their place and Daenerys was sure she would not gotten lost in the sea of people if not for Jon dragging her through the crowds by the wrist.

Once everyone was lined up in front of the gates the first riders arrived. Two men in white armour and cloaks of the same colour, _kingsguard_. Daenerys clenched her jaw and balled her fists as she realised that the younger man on the left was Jamie Lannister, the kingslayer. _He murdered my father._

The next person through the gates was a large man in fine black riding leathers with a golden stag blazing on his chest. Daenerys could see Jon looking at her out of the corner of her eye, the king climbed down from his horse and began to walk towards them, she quickly turned her eyes to the ground.

Lord Stark and the King were talking loudly and everyone else was silent so Daenerys could hear every word they spoke. She could not resist looking up when she heard that Queen Cersei had left the wheelhouse and was now talking to Lord Eddard. Cersei was certainly beautiful, and she seemed far more a Queen than Robert did a King.

After the King and all his men were safely inside the castle, Bran and Lord Stannis were the next people in. Stannis came first, and Dany almost felt sick looking at the man who had thrown her and Viserys out of their home when they were little more than babes. Seeing Bran calmed her though.

She had missed the boy and was glad to see him looking happy, his direwolf Summer seemed just as large as the rest of his siblings’ which was useful to know that they could survive and thrive outside of the North.

Once Stannis had made his greetings and pleasantries, Bran came forwards and greeted his family very formally. He seemed a different person to the child who had left three years ago. His mother embraced warmly of course, Lady Stark was always glad to have her children with her, but Lord Stark simply returned his son’s greeting and let Bran move on to see his siblings.

Daenerys could see Jon itching to go and see his brother. He had missed Bran so much over the years, and although Jon claimed to be almost a man grown now, Daenerys knew he had cried the last time he missed Brans nameday and spent the whole day sulking in what had been Bran’s chambers like a five year old. She had teased him for it before she saw how upset he really was. After that she had taken him outside to climb the walls like Bran used to. The castle folk hadn’t been too happy about it but it had made Jon smile, so Daenerys didn’t mind.

Bran looked around for Jon once he had been reunited with all his full siblings, but Lady Stark bent down and told him he could wait till later to see his half brother.

The Tyrell’s came through next. Their riders filed in and Daenerys sensed grumbles from the caste staff at the amount of people they would have to cater for.

Daenerys had heard Robb talk about Margaery a thousand since he had first met the girl, but Dany had still not been expecting to see Lady Margaery ride through the gates of Winterfell on horseback.

Most of the other highborn Ladies were seated in their great wheelhouses to keep them warm and save them for having to ride all day. But Margaery seemed more than happy to ride.

Robb walked forwards to help her from her horse. Daenerys looked up to see her friend put his hands around his betrothed’s tiny waist, and lifted her off her horse and into the ground.

The two then walked towards Lord Stark and King Robert, Margaery’s arm resting gently on Robb’s. Daenerys looked up at Jon and grinned, he returned the look and nudged her slightly, reminding her to watch.

“Your Grace.” Robb bowed and Margaery curtsied. They truly did look perfect together. “Do we have your blessing for this union?”

The king placed a hand on either of their shoulders. “You do.”

There were some cheers from the crowd and somewhere music, horns and drums, began to sound though Daenerys hadn’t the faintest clue where they were coming from. Everyone began to make their way into the castle, Robb and Margaery leading the way with the King and Lord Stark close behind them, followed next by lady Stark, Queen Cersei and all of their children.

As they passed, Daenerys noticed Robb saying something quietly to Margaery, and the Tyrell girl laughing kindly and looking at Robb with something akin to adoration in her eyes.

Once all of the highborn guest and important visitors had exited the courtyard Jon tugged on Daenerys’ arm.

“Let’s go find Bran before someone tries to make us carry their belongings to their chambers.” He said.

She laughed a little at that, but she knew he wasn’t entirely joking. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d be mistaken for servants. _Well, I technically am a servant but that’s not the point._

They found Bran and Arya playing in the Godswood with the bow and arrows they had left behind.

“Bran!” Jon called. His brother whipped his head around and dropped his bow.

“Jon!” He called back before running straight into his brothers arms.

Arya huffed at being replaced so easily and began to put the arrows back into the quiver on the ground. Daenerys wasn’t at all surprised that the girl had used her and Jon’s absence to use the bow, especially with bran there. It made her laugh slightly to see how far Arya had to walk to fetch the last few arrows. _Clearly Bran hasn’t changed that much then._

Bran came and embraced her next. He was growing fast, and Daenerys had never been very tall, so the two were practically the same height now.

“How are you?” She asked once they let go.

The boy had been distraught when he had left Winterfell, and it had sent all of his siblings into similar states of distress to see him so upset. But Bran looked fine now, better than fine. 

“I’m good. I thought I would hate it and want to come straight back, but Dragonstone is fun! It’s full secret passages and things from Valyria that the Targaryens left behind, Shireen’s been showing me them. Lord Stannis isn’t bad either, though he’s much stricter than father was about climbing. He said I wasn’t allowed to climb at Dragonstone because he didn’t want to have to tell father that I had died from falling off a gargoyle.” He laughed a little at that, but they could tell he was itching to be back on the walls of Winterfell.

Daenerys felt a pang in her heart when Bran said Dragonstone. The castle of Dragonstone was where she herself had been born, and before she had seen her first nameday Lord Stannis came and chased both her and Viserys out of their home.

_That man has no right to Dragonstone, that castle the last thing left standing of the Valyrian empire, it belongs to the Valyrians. _She decided it would be best if she made an effort to avoid Stannis. The thought of having to face the man who now owned the place that had belonged to house Targaryen since before the conquest made her blood boil in anger.

“Well he’s right.” She said finally, balling her fists and biting back her rage so as not to upset Bran. “How would you family feel if you died so far from Winterfell. Besides, Lord Stark wasn’t exactly happy about your climbing was he?”

Bran smirked before turning around and running back to Arya. Clearly his sister was more entertaining to him now. The two children shot off through the woods with their wolves hot on their heels.

Jon began to pack away their equipment. They hid the bow and arrows in the same place Arya used to hide her stick sword. On more than one occasion, Jon and Daenerys had found small knives, that they assumed Arya had stolen from this kitchen, in the hiding place as well. They made sure to take them back to the kitchens whenever they came across them. No matter how much it angered Arya, they drew the line at letting her use real blades.

“Bran seems happy.” Daenerys said after a while.

“He does.” Jon smiled. “I’m glad. He was so against the idea of going to drag- of going away I was worried he would hate it with Stannis. But by the sound of, he loves it. He said that Shireen is his best friend there and he doesn’t even mind too much that he has to marry her anymore.”

He looked at her with a grin on his face, but she couldn’t return it this time.

“Are you alright?” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it slightly. “If it’s too much with everyone here, with the King, just tell me or Father or Lady Stark and I’m sure they’ll make some excuse for you to stay away from them all.”

Daenerys could feel the tears forming behind her eyes. They stung and she tried unsuccessfully to blink them back. “Thank you, I just…” the tears came in earnest now. “I just can’t stop thinking about Viserys, about what he would say if he was here. What he’d say if he knew that I would be eating and drinking and speaking with the men who destroyed our family.” 

Jon pulled her into a hug, stroking the back of her head slightly as he did. Dany would have felt slightly embarrassed at her display of emotion if it weren’t for how anxious and angry she felt. 

“They’re all here! All of them!” She sobbed. “The usurper, the Kingslayer, Stannis.” She spat the names into Jon’s shoulder, her voice was so muffled she didn’t know if he could even understand her but she said it anyway.

Jon didn’t reply, he simply held her until she stopped crying. When Daenerys stopped crying, her eyes were red and puffy, so Jon sat by the pool with her and helped her wash her face. Then the two of them walked back into the castle, so that Larra could help Lady Stark prepare for the feast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here’s chapter 8. I left out them all saying good bye to bran on purpose because I felt like it would be a bit of a pointless chapter, and yeah this is also a bit of a filler, but you’ll get the wedding next time don’t worry.  
Please let me know what you think or if there’s any improvements I can make :)


	9. The Wedding

The Godswood had been set up with candles and chairs for two hundred people around the heart tree on that night. Arya was seated at the very front along with the rest of her family, the Tyrell’s and King Roberts. Many of the other knights, retainers and lesser lords were seated behind her, but as a close relative to one of the people getting married there that night, she had a place of honour.

Jon was seated directly behind her. He was sat with Uncle Benjen who had travelled down from the Wall for the Wedding. Arya’s mother wasn’t happy about Jon being sat so close to the front, she had wanted him further back or even standing with some of the Castle folk who had been invited to watch. But it was Robb’s wedding, not Lady Stark’s, so he got to decide where his brother sat, and he decided that Jon should sit on the second row. He would have sat Jon on the first row but Jon himself had persuade Robb not to, lest they offend the king.

Arya glanced around her at all the unfamiliar faces. She took a long look at the servants standing around the back and sides, she was looking for Larra, but there was so many people that it was almost impossible to separate one person from the crowd.

The gentle chatter of the Godswood began to die down and all turned to the entrance. Robb and Margaery stood beside each other, both looking far older than their 14 years. Robb wore Stark colours, grey and white; Margaery wore a white gown with an ornate green and gold cloak decorated with Tyrell roses.

The two of them walked, arm in arm, towards the weirwood. The ceremony was to be one unlike any traditional northern wedding. As the Tyrell’s, and Robb’s mother, kept the faith of the seven, it was agreed that a Septon would be there to oversee the cloaking of the bride and say some words of blessing, but the ceremony itself would still be held beneath a hearttree and happen in a more traditional northern style.

Once the cloaking and blessings were done, the bride and groom had their hands tied together, with father saying some words beside them and Robb and Margaery both repeating what was said.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Arya was glad to hear the words _“I now pronounce you, one heart one flesh one life.” _And everyone stood and clapped as Robb and Margaery kissed, and Arya felt slightly like gagging, but she remembered her manners.

With everyone still clapping and celebrating, Robb scooped up his new wife in his arms and carried her from the Godswood and all the other guests began to file out after them.

Sitting at the high seat, Ned could see the whole hall, everyone and everything. Robb and Margaery were seated to the left of him, with Margaery’s brothers, Loras and Garlan, sat on the far side of the couple. Margaery’s father was sat between Ned and his son, and the Lord of Winterfell was growing increasing tired of the mans company.

Unfortunately the people on to Ned’s right side were no better company either. The king who had been sat next to him was now slowly making his was around every woman at the feast to see which may be susceptible to his advances. This, of course, had left the Queen in an even worse mood than she had been in already. Cat was trying with little avail to engage Cersei in some polite conversation, but the Lannister woman seemed intent on being miserable and paying attention only to her own children.

Sansa has been seated beside the Prince Joffrey, much to her delight, with Rickon sat between Tommen and Myrcella. Arya was sat on the other side of the table, beside Ser Garlan, and she seemed to more than happy there. Her mouth hardly stopped moving for the entire feast, she was bombarding the poor man with question after question, though Ser Garlan did not appear to mind all that much.

After around an hour at the feast, Ned began to wonder if the alliance with the Reach was worth him having to listen to Lord Mace give yet another tale of the wealth of the Reach and the pride of his family. The Lord of Winterfell had to restrain himself from reminding this man that his family had only been Lords for 300 years, since the Conqueror defeated the Gardener kings of old and replaced them their stewards: The Tyrell’s.

The Starks, on the other hand, had ruled the North for thousands of years. They were the kings of Winter before Torrhen Stark bent the knee.

Thankfully, Ned was rescued from the Lord Paramount of the Reach by his brother, Benjen.

“Ned!” Benjen said, sneaking up behind him and clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Benjen?” Ned stood and embraced his brother, unbelievably grateful for the intervention. He made his apologies to Lord Mace and left to find somewhere quiet to speak with Benjen.

“I did not know you were coming brother.” Ned said once they had left the feast and were out of earshot of everyone else.

“I could not miss my nephews wedding.” Benjen grinned.

“Well I’m afraid you did, you weren’t at the ceremony.”

“No, I arrived to late for that, but I was here in time for the feast.” They both laughed.

Ned made to ask another question when the doors to the hall opened again and two people rushed out and hid behind a barrel on the far side of the yard. Another man followed after them, Ned recognised his ward instantly. Theon was shouting something but his voice was so slurred by drink that Mes could not understand him. The Greyjoy could not see the pair hidden behind the barrel so he shook his head and staggered back into the hall.

Ned and Benjen has managed to go without being noticed so far as they were stood under a small roofed part of the yard and were mostly in darkness. They were close enough to the two people behind the barrel that they could hear what they were now saying.

They were a young man and woman, they were giggling uncontrollably now, though neither Ned nor Benjen saw anything funny.

“That was close.” The boy said, and through the laughter Ned was sure he recognised Jon’s voice, Benjen gave him a look that showed he heard it too.

“I know!” The girl said between breaths. The Lysene accent she spoke with had somewhat faded over the years, but Larra’s voice was still unmistakable at Winterfell.

The two of them stopped laughing and stood up, then they immediately began to laugh again when Jon slipped on a wet patch and fell on his arse. When they had finally regained themselves. They walked closer to where Ned and Benjen were.

“Fancy a game?” Larra asked, picking something out of another barrel.

“That depends, how much have you drunk?” Jon asked, chuckling slightly.

“Not nearly enough to be as bad as you, that’s for sure.” Larra laughed.

They walked back across the yard towards the entrance to the now empty Godswood. Ned could see they each carried a bow and a quiver of arrows.

“Should we not stop them?” Benjen asked once they were out of earshot. “They shouldn’t be shooting arrows in their cups, especially not the girl.”

“They aren’t too bad, and Larra’s far better with a bow than any of my sons.” Ned has often seen the girl practicing when she thought there were none around to see her. He had always suspected it was Jon who had taught her, the two had always been close and Jon had never understood why girls shouldn’t learn to fight also.

“So that’s _Larra_, is it?” Benjen raised his brows.

“Yes.” Ned replied coolly.

“And to be clear, by Larra we mean…”

“You know full well what we mean, I won’t say it out here.” Ned hissed.

“I’ll never understand why you felt the need to bring her here.” Benjen snapped, he looked towards the Godswood, and Ned was suddenly reminded of another brother.

“It was what honour demanded.” He replied.

“Honour demanded you put your whole family at risk for the sake of a girl who’s family you played a large role in destroying?”

“She is not her family, and no one is at risk if no one knows who she is.”

“You think you’ll be able to hide her forever?” Benjen lowered his voice and looked around, they were alone. “She’s a Targaryen Ned, and sooner or later, blood will tell. It always does. No matter how sweet she may seem now she is and always will be a mad mans daughter. So I’ll ask you again, and you answer honestly this time, _why did you bring here here?_”

“Because she could have been Jon!” Ned snapped, louder than he had hoped, though there was no one around to hear them. “When I found her in Lys, she was starving Benjen, she was so thin I could see all the bones in her arms. She had nothing and no one except a brother who was clearly willing to sell her to the highest bidder. And I couldn’t help but think, if I hadn’t gotten to Dorne in time, if Lyanna had died before I got to the tower, what would the Kingsguard’s have done? If I had not been there to take him, would Jon have gone to Essos too? Would he have been left to starve on the streets too?”

“Jon is different.” Benjen protested.

“And how is that?”

“He’s family. She’s just as much a Stark as any of your children. He has a wolf doesn’t he? Just like the rest of them do, that’s proof enough for me.” Benjen sighed. “You know him better than I do, but we both know his temperament, he’s calmer than Robb for sure, but he has the Wolf blood on him too, the same as Lyanna. He’s a good lad.”

“Aye, he is. And Daenerys is just as good as he is.” Ned whispered. “Jon isn’t the way he is because of his blood, he is the way he is because of the life he has had, because of how I raised him. You might not believe it, but I raised both of them as well as I could. I got to Daenerys late, yes, but not too late. Blood of the dragon, woods blood, none of it matters, not here not now, all that matters is that we protect them.”

“I’ll protect Jon, you know I always will brother,” Benjen’s voice was very low now “but Daenerys is no kin of mine. You may not blame her for her family’s crimes, but I can’t forget. Her father murdered our father and Brandon. And Lyanna may have loved him but Rhaegar was still the death of her. I won’t betray her or you, but don’t ask me to protect her. People like her weren’t born to thrive in this world. Incest is a crime in the eyes of all the Gods is Westeros, she is an abomination.”

“Careful Benjen. I love you but be careful. I will not have you speak of her in that way.” Ned was finished with the conversation. He turned on his heel and went back to the hall, leaving his brother outside.

“Throw it further!” Larra laughed.

“I’m throwing it as far as I can!” Jon shouted back.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. If I throw it any further you won’t be able to hit it.” Jon protested.

“I will!” Larra said indignantly.

“Fine, just don’t go shooting anyone.” Jon threw the apple as far as he could down a clear stretch of wood.

Larra loosed her arrow and it soared through the air and nocked the fruit from the sky.

“See? I told you!” She laughed, running over to retrieve her arrow.

Jon had been well in his cups when they first left the feast. He and Larra had been running from Theon Greyjoy, who was being far too friendly with Larra for either of their liking. So when the older boy was distracted they had snuck from their seats and run from the hall. In the moment it had been very amusing to the young couple, especially in the their drink induced state.

It was this state of mind that had been the reason why Jon had agreed. Larra wanted to play a game, and to Jon’s great discomfort she had chosen to play a game with her bow.

The rules were simple. One of them, usually Jon, would throw an apple and the other, usually Larra, would try to shoot it from the air. In the dark Jon was barely able to see the apple let alone hit it, but Larra hit it every single time without fail. Proud as Jon was of her achievement and his own teaching, he could not help feeling irritated by his own failings in this game.

“It’s your turn now.” Larra said when she came back. She picked a fresh apple from the pile on the ground.

“It’s fine, you can have another.” He said, trying to subtly avoid another fail.

“But I’ve had lot’s, it’s only fair that you go now.”

“I said I don’t want to.” Jon snapped.

“Why not?” She persisted.

“Because it’s a stupid game and I’m not a child anymore!”

They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Jon knew he should apologise, it was her game and she was trying to be kind. He opened his mouth to say something, but she turned on her heel and left him standing there.

“Larra!” He called once he had regained his voice. “Wait, please I didn’t mean…”

Jon honestly didn’t know what he meant. Larra was his best friend and he loved to spend time with her, and no matter what he said about being a man grown he would always enjoy their games.

He picked up their stuff and exited the Godswood. He looked around the yard for her, but she was long gone, likely back to the hall to continue her feast without him. Jon sighed and dropped the bow and arrows back at the armoury, picking out a sword while he did. The practice dummy was at the other end of the armoury, Jon set the dummy up and began to practice his swords play.

Larra may have been his superior when it came to archery, but she could not hope to come close to his skill with a sword. Even at fourteen, Jon was far better than his brother Robb and most of the people he had sparred against.

After the first few swings, Jon found a pattern of attack that suited him, and slowly he began to grow angrier at the straw man before him. He grew so frustrated he did not even notice the man come up behind him.

“Is it dead yet?” The man asked.

Jon whipped round, sword still in hand, to face the intruder. It was Tyrion Lannister, the Imp.

“It was never alive.” Jon said bitterly.

“Probably a good thing, I find straw men to be of very little help in most situations. Except, that is, when one needs to vent their frustrations of course.” The dwarf gave Jon a small smirk, to Jon’s surprise, he found himself returning it.

“I’m Tyrion Lannister.” The imp said.

“I know. I’m Jon Snow.”

“Ah, the bastard.” The smile slid from Jon’s face. “Sorry, I don’t mean to offend, but you are the bastard, yes?”

“Lord Eddard is my father.” Jon replies sulkily.

“And lady Catelyn is not your mother.” Jon shook his head. Tyrion offered a sympathetic look, and clearly decided it was time to change the topic of their conversation. “I saw you running out of the feast. Have no fear you were very subtle, I doubt anyone else saw. You were with a girl were you not?”

“Aye.” Jon wasn’t sure how comfortable he was discussing Larra with this man. Larra was fine, Larra was just a maid. But Daenerys was the daughter of a king, a king who this mans family betrayed. A king who this mans brother murdered.

“Am I correct in assuming this girls current absence is the cause of our straw friend’s abuse?” Tyrion cocked his head to the side.

“In a way.”

“And what way would that be.”

“A way that’s none of your business.” Jon realises he was still holding the practice sword. He debated for a moment whether to put it down or keep a tighter hold on it. He put it down.

“Of course.” Tyrion bowed his head slightly. “Might I ask who she was at least, she wasn’t… unpleasant, to look at if I may say so.”

“She’s lady Stark’s handmaiden.”

“Ah, the Lysenei. I’ve heard a little about her as well. She was a slave, yes?” Jon nodded. “And Lord Eddard took her in out of pity. A charming story. I suppose the two of you do make quite a pair, a bastard and a former slave.”

“Don’t say it like that.” Jon spat. “You make it sound like something bad, it wasn’t any of her fault.”

“I never said it was.” Tyrion sighed. “Let me give you some advice bastard, never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armour and it can never be used to hurt you. You should tell your friend that too.”

“What the hell do you know about being a bastard.”

“All dwarves are bastards in their fathers eyes.” Tyrion lifted his wine skin in acknowledgment and took a heavy swig. Then the little man turned, and for the second time that night, Jon was left alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait folks.   
Please comment and motivate me to keep writing, I know where I want to go with this one I just feel like I’ve hit a brick wall when it comes to actually writing the ideas down.  
Hope you’ve enjoyed :)


	10. The Fall

All of the men who had come for Robb’s wedding had set out on a hunt at dawn. They would likely not return till nightfall and most of the people had come for the celebration would be leaving on the morrow. All except the king.

This collection of events, along with what had happened at the feast, had put Daenerys in a foul mood. She did not like feeling this way, and she definitely did not like being at odds with Jon, but she did feel this way and she was at odds with Jon. It was her fault really, Jon had snapped at her but she had overreacted. Daenerys had tried to apologise to him, but he had spent the past few days with his siblings. Robb especially.

Robb was faring very well with his new wife. Daenerys had not spoken to Margaery, and she was unsure whether she ever truly would given that she was a servant here and Margaery was a lady. Regardless, Daenerys had never had a friend who was both of an age with her and a girl. Arya was her best friend that was true, but the girl was barely ten years old and Daenerys did not feel it right to confide certain things in Arya.

Margaery was less than a year older that Daenerys, and from what Robb has told her, she was perfect. She reassured herself that once she and Jon were back on speaking terms he would introduce her to Margaery.

“Larra?” Daenerys jumper slightly at the boy who had just appeared beside her. “What are you doing on your own?”

“Well I’m not on my own, am I?” She chuckled and petted Summers head, the wolf never strayed far from its master. “You’re here now.”

Bran grinned. “Would you like to play a game?”

“I would love to.”

“Good” Bran grabbed onto her hand “come this way.”

“Where are we going?” Daenerys laughed.

“I want to see if I can still do it.” Bran said. They had stopped next to the Broken Tower. They both looked up. “I used to be able to climb up it quicker that Arya could walk up it. Arya’s not here, but you’ll do!”

“Will I?” She asked. The tower was high and the boy was small. She looked at Bran who, in truth, was not much smaller than she was, but she was not very tall. _I shouldn’t let him, he has not climbed this tower in three years, what if he falls? _But Bran looked up at her with big blue eyes, and Daenerys could not say no. “Alright, but _be careful_, I don’t want to be the one to tell your father how you broke your neck either.”

Bran grinned and ran to the wall beside the tower. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Go!”

Daenerys ran into the tower and leapt up the steps two at a time. She knew she should really let Bran win, but she wanted to be there at the top when he arrived to see that he got there safely. The stones beneath her wobbled and tiny piece broke away under her feat, _perhaps Bran did take the safer route after all. _

She knew she was close to the top when she saw the light above her. _Is Bran already there? _Daenerys could hear noises from above her, as if whoever it was were out of breath. _No, that’s not Bran, that’s a woman, definitely. _But the closer Daenerys got to the top the louder and clearer the sound became. _There’s a man in there too. _

Standing beside the empty doorframe Daenerys knew she shouldn’t go in. _No one should be up here, I shouldn’t go in. But Bran might be in there, he’s climbing up now, he thinks I’ll be there. _She took a deep breath and turned into the room. There was nothing there that she could see at first, piles of old bricks and mossy pillars were blocking her view to the left side of the room.

She edged her was towards a pillar so that she could see where the noise was coming from. Suddenly the window came into view, and Daenerys was relieved to see Bran peering in, _he made it. _She breathed a sigh of infinite relief. But Bran was not looking at her, his gaze was fixed on something on the floor, whatever it was was obscured by a tumbled down wall. Whatever it was, it distracted Bran enough to make him lose his footing.

Daenerys felt her heart jump up her throat as the boy dropped down in the window slightly. He caught the edge, but the noise caught the attention of whatever was on the floor.

“Stop, stop.” Came the woman’s voice, she spoke quietly but Daenerys could here the panic in her voice.

Bran tried to climb down away from the window, but a man ran out from behind the wall and grabbed the boy.

“Are you completely mad?” Daenerys froze as the man spoke. She could only see the back of his head, but his golden hair and voice were unmistakable.

“He saw us.” The woman said.

_Who is that?_

“I know. Quite the little climber aren’t you.” The Kingslayer asked.

Bran gave a shaky nod.

“_He saw us!” _The woman persisted. And something in her voice gave her away this time. _It’s the Queen. _

“I heard you.” The Kingslayer hissed. He looked over the edge of the window. “How old are you boy?”

“Nine.”

The Kingslayer let go of Brans shirt and the boy clung desperately to the bricks. The Kingslayer turned, Daenerys could see his face now, and her suspicions were confirmed when she saw a woman standing from behind the wall. It was unmistakably Queen Cersei. Both Bran and Daenerys held their breath. Bran had not seen her from her hiding place, nor had the Lannisters.

Jamie sucked in his breath and looked straight into Cersei’s face. “The things I do for love.”

“NO!” Daenerys screamed as the Kingslayer pushed his hand into Brans chest as hard as he could, and the boy was thrown backwards out of the window.

Her scream finally alerted the Lannister’s to her presence. They both turned to face her, Daenerys could see that neither of them were fully dressed and Cersei’s hair was in disarray. She turned and ran for the door. _Bran, you must get to Bran. You must get away from them. _

She ran as fast as she could, but the steps kept crumbling and she slipped onto her back, badly scraping her legs on the rough stone. Rough hands grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her too her feet. The Kingslayer pushed her up against a wall with one hand going threateningly to her neck and a look of pure malice on his face. 

He looked straight into her face, his green eyes fixing on her purple, and the look on his face changed from one of anger to one of fear. He dropped his hands and staggered backwards.

“Rhaella?” He breathed.

Daenerys knew that name, that had been her mother’s name. _He knew my mother, of course he knew my mother it was his sworn duty to guard her. _She could think of nothing else to say but, “no.”

Cersei appeared in the steps above them. “What are you waiting for?” She hissed. “She’s old enough to know what happened, we can’t let her go!”

“You can’t kill me, it will look to strange for two people to die here today.” Daenerys wasn’t sure where she found the strength to reply, but she knew her voice must still have been trembling from her fear.

“If we don’t kill you, what’s to stop you from telling the world what you have seen?” Cersei walked forwards to be beside her brother.

“She won’t tell…” Jamie whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“She won’t tell because if she does, we will tell King Robert who she really is, won’t we?” Jamie smirked at Daenerys.

“What are yo-”

“Look at her Cersei, really look at her. Who do you see?” Jamie asked, grabbing his sister by the waist and pushing her towards Daenerys. She closed her eyes in some finally attempt to hide, but it was no use. “There’s no point in that now girl, open your eyes. Who do you see Cersei, doesn’t she remind you of anyone?”

Cersei now wore the same expression Jamie had when he had first figured it out. She looked more shocked than anything, her green eyes were searching through Daenerys hair and face searching for something they had not seen in a long time.

“You’re Aerys daughter, aren’t you.” Jamie asked.

“Yes.” She replied through gritted teeth. There was no point in denying it, both of these people had know her family personally. If she resembled her mother, Jamie Lannister would know.

“Your name?” It was Cersei asking this time.

“Daenerys.”

“Well then Daenerys, you may go and see to the boy’s body. And if you tell anyone what happened we shall reveal your identity to the king and he will not only execute you, but all of the Starks as well as punishment for them harbouring you here illegally. Do I make myself clear.” Cersei stood up straight and spoke in a tone that left no room for argument.

“Yes.”

“Yes, your grace.”

Daenerys gritted her teeth. “Yes, your grace.”

“Good.”

The Lannister’s stepped to the side. Daenerys scrambles to her feet and threw herself down the rest of the tower. She could hear Summer howling outside and knew that others would hear it too. _I have to get help, he _can’t _die, he can’t. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, yeah, sorry to anyone who though Bran would be safe this time.  
Next time will be lots of Aryas and Ned’s POV’s  
Please let me know what you thought :)


	11. The Fallout

As Arya sat at her brothers bedside, Bran suddenly looked far younger than his nine years. He was alive, maester Luwin said, but he would not wake up. Arya had tried to rouse him at first, she had put her hands on his shoulders and shaken him, but everyone told her she had to stop, that she might make him worse.

Bran’s wolf had his head on Aryas knee. Summer was too big to be allowed to sit on the bed, but he still refused to leave Bran alone.

“Arya,” her father called to her as he entered the room “we leave on the morrow, you need to pack your things.”

“I’m not going.” She replied stubbornly. _He’s my brother and he needs me, I won’t leave him again. _

“Arya, you have to come with me, you already agreed.” Her fathers voice was soft, but it still angered her.

“That was before. Now I have to stay here.” She turned to face him. “It was my fault he fell. If I had played I would have won and been there in time to catch him at the window!”

At the sound of Aryas voice, her mother, who had been asleep in the chair in the other side of Brans bed, woke up. She had not slept since it happened, and that had been almost five days ago now. All of the Reachmen has left and some of the Kings party had set off back to Kingslanding, but the King himself waited for Aryas father.

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault,” her father sighed “it was an accident.”

“It _was _somebody’s fault.” Lady Catelyn muttered as she leaned over and felt Brans forehead. “Everyone may say it’s an accident but we all know who’s fault it was.”

“You can’t blame her Cat,” Ned walked over to his wife and tried to sooth her “if it wasn’t for her Bran would have died, maester Luwin said if she had come a minute later Bran could have lost him legs for ever. This is not so bad, the maester says he will recover.”

“But what if he’s wrong,” Aryas mother snapped “what if he does lose them forever. Or worse, what if he _dies_, Ned? What will we do then?”

“He won’t die. And it’s not her fault, it was an accident. Bran had not climbed the tower in three years, he should have know it was too dangerous.”

“_She _should have stopped him.”

Arya knew who her mother was talking about. She had not been to see Larra since it happened, but she knew her friend had been the one to bring the Maester and, if Arya could believe everything she had heard, the one who saw him fall.

The story Larra had told Aryas father was that her and Bran were racing up the tower like Arya and he had so often done before he left for Dragonstone. Larra had arrived at the same time as Bran and seen the boy try to pull himself through the window, only for the stone under his foot to crumble and give way beneath Brans weight. He fell and Larra ran to help but could not reach him in time.

All the servant and visitors said that Larra had not stopped crying for two days afterwards she was so distraught. When Jon came to visit yesterday while Lady Stark was sleeping, he told Arya that Larra was still not talking to anyone, not even him. Arya knew she would go see her friend soon, but she did not want to leave Bran. _If I had not left him before, if I had raced him instead of Larra…_

“Arya,” her father was speaking to her again “if you don’t pack, I’ll have the septa do it for you, but you won’t get to chose what clothes she chooses.”

“I’m not going.” She repeated.

Her father sighed and walked around to her. “He won’t die, he’ll wake up soon enough, and we’ll be the first one to know when he does. But you can’t stay with him Arya, you have to come with me and your sister.”

“No.”

“When Bran wakes he won’t stay here,” both Arya and her mother looked up at that “he’s still being fostered by Lord Stannis and he’ll still marry Shireen, as soon as he’s fit to travel he’ll go back to Dragonstone with them.”

“No he won’t.” Aryas mother said this time.

“Cat..”

“No.” Arya’s mother repeated. “He can still marry the girl, if he can marry at all, but she will stay here.”

“Shireen is Stannis’ only child, he won’t send her away.”

“He might, I’ve seen how the girls mother looks at her, she’s ashamed of her. We will love that girl better than they could.”

“That’s not fair Cat,” her fathers voice grew more stern “they love her well.” Ned paused for a moment and looked at Arya. “But… Arya, will you make a deal with your mother and me?”

“What’s the deal?” She asked suspiciously.

“If you come to Kingslanding with me, I’ll ask the King to have Lord Stannis bring Bran and Shireen to the Red Keep to visit as much as they can. I’ll even ask if they can stay, but with Shireen’s… condition, I can’t make any promises for that.”

Arya squinted at him.

“Bran will be leaving Winterfell either way, the only question is whether you’ll leave too.” He father gave her the short summary.

“Fine.” Arya gave in. “But I’ll not let the septa pack for me. She’d only pack stupid dresses.” Arya muttered the last part slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s short, I know. I have a super clear idea of where this fic will go so I’m going to do a big time jump between now and next chapter, it’ll probs be a couple months to a year. This is kind of a filler just to let you know what’s happening nexts :)


	12. All Her Fears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait guys, I completely forgot to write this over the holidays.   
So I said last time that there’s be a big time jump between chapters, so this one is set roughly a year after the last chapter. hope you enjoy :)

“Larra!” Jon had called to her several times, but she had drifted away as she so often did these days.

“Hm,” Larra finally seemed to notice him. The two young people were sat side by side beneath the Weirwood. They had gone to the Godswood to practice archery, but after a few shots they both lost interest and decided to stop.

“Where did you go?” Jon asked her, he turned around the tree slightly to face her.

“No where, I’m right here.” She smiled back at him but it was clear she was deflecting from something.

“You know what I mean.” Jon sat back against the tree, bringing one knee up under his chin.

“I’m just think about Rickon, you don’t need to worry about me.” Larra turned her head up to the leaves. Jon had known for months now that Larra was not his friends real name, but habit and caution still stopped him using her real one.

“What about Rickon?” Jon scrunched his brow wondering what could be wrong with the boy, “and I’ll never stop worrying about you.”

“He’s not himself, he’s been in a sulk ever since Stannis left.” Larra turned to him and frowned as if what she was saying was the most obvious thing.

“He misses bran is all, and Shireen too, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Rickon was only four and since Stannis’ departure little over two moons ago the boy had been entirely without friends his own age, it was not wonder he was always in a sulk.

“Do you miss him?” Larra asked.

“Who?”

“Bran.”

“Oh, of course I miss him. His legs may be getting better, but I’d still prefer him be here with us.” His brothers legs had taken time to repair, and they still were not as reliable as before. He could walk with the assistance of crutches and on a bad day he required leg splints to keep them from cramping or failing beneath him. “He’ll come to visit us though, Stannis promised they would visit at least once every two years.”

“I wish they wouldn’t.”

“What makes you say that?” Jon whipped his head around at that. It sounded so out of character at first that Jon wondered if he had misheard, but then he recalled certain things Larra had done after the fall that made him wonder if her attitude towards Bran had changed. She had spoken to him less and less, neglecting him entirely when Stannis’ men were watching. “Larra? You can’t just ignore me.”

“I don’t like having to see him. He makes me feel… guilty.” Larra swallowed and Jon noticed her blinking and rubbing at her eyes. “And Lady Stark is doing a good enough job of that on her own.”

“Ignore Lady Stark,” Jon sighed, angry at himself for not realising sooner why Larra might feel conflicted, “she’s been awful to me since the day I got here. And everyone else knows it wasn’t your fault, it was an accident, Bran just slipped.”

A small pause followed, Jon did not want to speak lest she felt he was rushing her. Then, under her breath, so quietly Jon only just heard it, “No.”

“What?” Jon lowered his voice too.

“I didn’t say anything.” Larra looked alarmed.

“Yes you did,”Jon sat bolt upright, “you said no.”

“I didn’t.”

“Yes you did now tell me what you meant.” he stood, suddenly overcome by anxiety and curiosity. “I can’t help if you won’t tell me the truth.”

Larra wipes at her eyes one final time, took a deep breath and told him what had happened. She stayed incredibly calm, looking straight into his eyes the whole time she talked. For his pet, Jon listened as well as he could, never interrupting.

“So, you saw Queen Cersei and the Kingslayer…” Jon did not finish the sentence.

Larra nodded. “I didn’t understand back then, I don’t know what they were doing, but now… and it makes so much more sense now why they pushed Bran. Why they threatened me.”

“If the king finds out he’ll kill them.” Jon agreed. “Both of them.” Then suddenly a thought hit him. “Larra, don’t you think it’s strange that all three of kings children look far more like their mother than their father.”

“You think Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella are all Jamie’s children, not the usurpers?” Something about her use of the word _usurper _sent a shiver down Jon’s spine, and reminded him of just who he was talking to.

“I think it’s completely possible. But we can’t know for sure.” Jon sighed. “If the King found out he’d kill all three of them as well.”

Dany shivered “It’s getting dark.” It wasn’t. But Jon wasn’t in the mood to dispute her. “We should head back, Lady Margaery will need me.”

One of the only decent things that Lady Catelyn has done for Daenerys since Brans fall had been to sack her as her handmaiden. At first Dany had been glad for the new freedom she would have around the castle, even if her position under Lady Stark had only been a guise, she had not enjoyed it much. Unfortunately, Robb had felt bad for his friends unemployment and gave Larra to his new wife to be her handmaiden instead.

At first Daenerys had detested the idea, for Margaery new nothing of her true identity and would treat her as a real servant. But Dany could not have been more wrong. From their first meeting Margaery had only ever been a friend. They had both been missing something from their lives, Margaery especially after her family left, so having _Larra from Lys_ brought into her life gave her a friend she could truly relate to and learn from. The two girls were of an age and relatively unused to the North and it’s customs, but both possessed talents the other needed, so Dany learned about etiquette and discipline and servitude from Margaery, and Margaery was able to learn some of the workings and tales of the North from the perspective of another outsider.

“Beg pardon, My Lady.” Dany bowed as she entered the room, she always made an effort to remember her manners at the start at least. “I lost track of time.”

“There’s no need to apologise,” Margaery rolled her eyes, then smirked her brilliant smirk, “I saw you coming out of the Godswood.”

“Yes, I find it very pe-”

“With Jon.” Margaery finished.

“I- I am usually with Jon, it’s not an uncommon thing. He is my greatest friend,” Dany saw that Margaery was still smirking, it made her feel strange, like the girl was looking into her soul, she tried to change the subject, “excluding your ladyship of course.”

“Hmm, alright then.” Margaery seemed to be satisfied with her answer. “Come, help me dress. Robb is obsessing over this bloody feast tonight. _“My father always hosted the Northern Clans so that they would not forget him or his loyalty to them, we must do the same if we wish to keep their allegiance”._ And though I love him very much and am growing to love the North, the prospect of eating with fifty near wildling chieftains is not one that fills me with joy.”

Dany picked up the clothes from where they had been payed out across a chest. She began to dress her friend, starting as she always did with the corset. Only when she wrapped it around Margaery’s body and pulled on the strings, the thing would not fully close, no matter how hard she pulled.

“Sscchh.” Margaery sucked in her breath. “Must you pull it so tight, I can barely breathe.”

“It won’t close,” Dany muttered, “not fully.”

“I hope you aren’t suggesting that I’m getting fat.” Margaery said, appalled.

“No,” Dany chuckled softly, then a thought occurred to her, “only- Margaery, when was the lay time you… the last time you bled?”

“What?” Margaery whipped around to look at her, face as pale as the snow that was beginning to settle on the window. Dany could see her searching behind her eyes, trying to remember. “Well, it must’ve been, it must been… about, two moons ago I suppose.”

“Shall I send for the maester?”

“Yes, I think that would be a good idea.” Margaery’s reply was short, and Dany could hear the anxiety in her voice.

Maester Luwin came to see Lady Margaery and Dany was dismissed for the rest of the evening.

The next morning Dany was preparing to go to her friends chambers and check that she was well, but she barely made it past her door before Jon came barrelling into her.

“Hey!” She shouted. “Be careful.”

“There’s no time, we all have to come to the great hall.” He said, his face pale and his hands shaking ever so slightly. “Now.”

The two of them raced through the corridors until they reached the great hall. Robb was sat in the Lords seat with Margaery to his right and Lady Catelyn to his left. All of them wore stony faces, and Dany knew why when she saw what they were all looking at. A man stood in the middle of the hall dressed all in white. She recognised him from the royal visit, not the Kingslayer _thank the gods. _It was Ser Barristan Selmy, and he carried with him a letter.

“My Lord I have been sent here by King Robert himself to deliver you this news.” The Kingsguard said.

“What does the King ask that is so important it must be delivered in person. And if it must be given in person why did he not send our father?” Robb asked with a grave voice, a hard voice, not the voice of the boy she knew. This was the Lord of Winterfell speaking now.

“Forgive me my Lord, but the news concerns you father.” Ser Barristan sighed, and gave an apologetic look around the room. “Lord Eddard Stark has been found guilty of treason.”

Uproar. Every soul in the hall began to shout above each other, many moving forwards in an attempt to kill the messenger. Robb had to stand and bellow for everyone to shut up and let Ser Barristan continue.

“It was discovered,” Ser Barristan began to look around the room again, and Dany felt her heart beat faster, “that Lord Eddard had been harbouring a fugitive within the walls of Winterfell.” Dany now felt her heart stop entirely. _No, no no no, it not me, I’m not a fugitive, I’ve never committed any crimes. _She thought, as if this pathetic attempt would help her in any way.

“And what _fugitive _would that be?” Margaery asked, her time was slightly sarcastic but Dany still wished she had not asked.

“The Mad Kings daughter.” All the murmurs from the watching crowd died out at the mention of that name. Ser Barristan’s eyes continued to rove the audience, Dany knew for certain now that he was looking for her, but she did not move. “Her name is Daenerys Targaryen, but I believe she may go by some alias here.”

Slowly, people in the hall began to figure it out. Robb was first, he said nothing, but he paled slightly and sat back in his chair, turning from the Lord of Winterfell back to Robb in a matter of seconds. Then some of the servants Dany was friends with began to glance towards her and whisper.

“It does not matter what she calls herself.” Ser Barristan, it seemed, was not finished talking. “The King has demanded that the girl, along with one of Lord Eddard’s sons must accompany me back to Kingslanding.”

“The King already has my father and sisters hostage.” It was clear that Robb was barely containing his anger. “Why must he take one of my fathers sons too?”

“I do not know the Kings mind, only his decree. And his decree is that.” Ser Barristan bowed his head. “I leave at first light tomorrow My Lord, I must have these two people with me when I leave. I suggest you turn them over willingly now.”

“Why is that?” Robb was clenching his jaw so hard Dany worries he would break his teeth.

“Because King Robert and Lord Eddard are old friends. The King is not like to execute his friend, especially if this matter is resolved quickly.”

“You think I will surrender these people to you willingly.” The Lord of Winterfell looked ready to burst, but gently, in a movement so small no one else even noticed, Margaery put her hand over his and that seemed to calm him some. “Why should we obey a king who imprisons our liege lord?”

“I respect that you are loath to part with a brother, but it will likely ensure the safe return of your father and sisters.” Ser Barristan looked red in the face from embarrassment. “As for the girl, I am assuming you were in aware of her identity, and therefor would not mind parting ways with her. Especially given your family history.” Ser Barristan turned to the crowd behind him. “I will be leaving tomorrow as I already said, Daenerys, I speak now to you, wherever you are. It will spare these people a lot of suffering if you turn yourself in before then.”

Dany realised suddenly that there were tears in her eyes. She looked at Jon who was stood beside her, he was not looking at her, he was too busy focusing on his brothers reaction. _He won’t stop me_, she thought.

Small as she was, it was not hard for Dany to sneak forwards through the people to the front of the crowd. Jon noticed her absence faster than she had hoped and moved after her, but his size meant that he caused more of a disruption, and the White Knight heard and turned to see what was happening. Dany was directly in his line of sight, and as Jon made to pull her back into the crowd several other men and guards blocked his way and pushed the crowds backwards.

“Come forward, child.” Ser Barristan’s voice was not unkind, nor was his face or his manner. He even seemed remorseful at what he was having to do. “Your are Daenerys Targaryen?”

Daenerys nodded, she could not speak for fear of crying.

“Very well,” he signalled to on of his guards. The man stepped forwards carrying a set of manacles, but a Stark man blocked his way.

“This is Winterfell.” The man said. “None can make arrests here but the Lord.”

Everyone looked at Robb, he was clearly going to tell the Kings man to drop the manacles and run before Greywind tore his arm off. But then he turned to Dany, a girl he had known almost half his life, a friend to him and all of Winterfell, a kind girl who had lied to him since the day they met. And she was nodding. She was willing to go with them, she was willing to leave if it meant Lord Eddard’s safety.

“Yes.” He spat reluctantly, you may make the arrest. “But my brothers and I will need time to discuss which one of us will go with you.”

“I understand. You have till the morrow.”

The guard wrapped the cold iron around Dany’s wrists, they hurt more than she could have imagined, not on her body, but in her soul. It was all of her fears coming true, all of them al once. _And there is nothing I can do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said there’s been a big time jump of about a year from last chapter, and next chapter is actually going to go back a month or two and be focused on something other than jonerys (Sorry)  
Hope you enjoyed :)


	13. Let It Be Known

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place about two months before Dany’s arrest

Lord Eddard stood still as a statue beneath the iron throne. Robert had called an emergency gathering of all the Lords and Ladies in the Red Keep following a small council meeting. They had been trying to discuss the crowns finances, there were few sessions the King ever came to, but Ned had managed to persuade him that this one would be a useful one. It had started fine, then Archmaester Pycell suggested that they could make a great deal of money if they sold the Dragon skulls they had stored in the dungeons. Dragonbone is after all a precious commodity and worth a small fortune, and give the vast amount they had beneath the Red Keep, it was not at all a bad suggestion.

But Robert has not liked it. And it had sparked something in him, and that was why he had gathered everyone in the Throne Room.

Pycell called for quiet and silenced the muttering around them.

“Don’t worry my Lords, this won’t take long,” the King began, “I have one small announcement to make, and then I shall let you continue with your day.” There was silence as they all awaited his announcement. “It has recently been brought back to my attention that not all of those incestuous whores, the Targaryens, are dead.” Ned felt a pang of guilt and anxiety hit him, but he did not let it show on his face. “Two of the Mad Kings children do yet survive! The boy Viserys will now be a man of twenty and two, or there abouts, and just as mad as his father was. The girl,” the king paused and furrowed his brow in frustration, “the girl!”

“Daenerys.” Varys answered on the Kings behalf. “She’ll be four and ten now.”

“Old enough to marry and old enough to breed. I will not let any more of those silver haired cunts be born! Do you hear me!” Ned winced at his friends attitude as he sat atop the throne. “So I am now officially placing prices upon their heads. An appropriate amount of gold to anyone who brings me useful information on them. For the girl I will pay 50,000 gold dragons, or a prize of that value. For the boy, 100,000 gold dragons or a prize of that value. Spread the word, tell your families, your bannermen, everyone must know that I will pay for these people. But I want the alive!”

And with that the session had ended. The lords and Ladies descended into chatter once again, and Ned made to follow Robert as he left, but he was interrupted.

“Lord Stark.”

“Lord Baelish,” Ned sighed, “what can I do for you.”

“Actually I was wondering what I could do for you.” Baelish smirked. “I was wondering if you were still perusing the cause of the late Lord Arryn’s death.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because if so, there’s a certain armourer in the city you may wish to visit.” Baelish said. “The names Tobho Mott. Ask if you can see his apprentice.”

Ned nodded and walked away, considering the offer but still intent on finding the King. Unfortunately, he had delayed too long and the King was nowhere in sight.

“Jory!” He called to the head of his household guard. “We’re going into the city, fetch some horses.”

“How many, M’Lord?” Jory asked.

“Just two, I don’t wish to draw attention.” Something barrelled into Ned as he spoke. He looked down to see Arya, who had fallen flat on her back on the floor. “What are you doing down there?”

“I was running away from Septa Mordane.” Arya grumbled as she stood and dusted herself off.

“Why were you doing that?”

“I don’t want to do her lessons.” Arya grumbled. “Can I come with you?”

“Where?”

“Wherever you and Jory are going.” Arya asked innocently.

“No, we’re going into the city, it might be dangerous.” Ned said, not unkindly.

“But I can protect myself now!” Arya complained. “Syrio says I can use Needle now! I’m getting so much better father!”

“I’m sure you are, bu-”

“Please!” Art interrupted.

Ned sighed. “Alright. But keep your sword on you and don’t even think of leaving mine or Jory’s side.”

“Thank you.” Arya beamed at him.

The ride through the city was far more terrifying with Arya beside him. He had had to give her her own horse, and she was an expert rider, _as was Lyanna. _The people on the side of the road would look at them with uneasy eyes, but Arya kept her head forwards and did not let them bother her. It did not take them long to find the armourer.

“Tobho Mott?” Jory asked.

“Aye.” The man replied. “Who’s asking.”

“The Lord Hand, Eddard Stark.” Jory stated.

“My Lord, what can I do for you?”

“I was told you have an apprentice?” Ned asked.

“That I do.” Tobho called into the back of his shop. Ned has to put a hand on Aryas shoulder to stop her from fiddling with all the knives on the counter in front if them. “Here he is my Lord, Gendry.”

“M’Lord.” The boy bowed his head.

“I understand Lord Arryn came to see you shorty before his death.” Ned asked the boy.

“That he did, M’Lord, he cane several times.” The boy kept his eyes on the floor.

“What for?”

“He asked me questions.” Gendry seemed reluctant to answer.

“About what?”

“How I was doing, was I being treated well.” The boy cleared his throat. “He asked about my mother sometimes.”

“Who was your mother?”

“No one you would know, M’Lord. She died when I was little.”

While her father was seemingly distracted Arya attempted to grab one of the knives in front of her, but Lord Stark was paying more attention than she realised.

“Arya,” he hissed, “put it back.”

“I wasn’t stealing!” She complained. “I just wanted to look at it.”

“It doesn’t matter, put it back before you cut yourself.” Ned sighed to himself and returned his attention to the boy, he noticed that Gendry was now biting his lip in an attempt to stop himself laughing, something about his face now sparked a memory in Ned’s mind. “Boy, look at me.”

The lad must have though he was in some trouble, for he stopped smiling immediately and he was quite pale when he finally looked up. “That is all,” Ned told him, “thank you for your time.”

“Why did we go there if we weren’t even going to buy anything?” Arya huffed as they mounted their horses and set off back towards the Red Keep.

Ned did not answer her this time. He was too busy thinking. _Jon knew Robert just as well as I did back then, he would have seen it too. The boy looked more like the King than his trueborn children do. I wonder, what other bastards does Robert have in this city. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this it just a quick short chapter that I wanted to get done as soon as a could after the last one.  
So there’s a couple of key things I should clarify, the reason it’s taking Ned so long to get to this discovery is that him and Robert don’t have the whole “let’s kill Dany and her baby” conflict that they do on the show.  
I should also put in now, and this is important, that Tyrion never gets arrested in this story because there’s constant security around Bran at Winterfell no one tries to assassinate him and so Catelyn never needs to arrest him. Because of this he is now in Kingslanding too, that’ll be important later, also there’s no war or anything yet because Tyrion was never arrested.


	14. Let There Be Peace For A Change

Kingslanding 

The archmaester’s chambers were not how Ned had expected them to be. They were far messier than maester Luwin’s had been, yet somehow there seemed to be less _thing_ in it. It was also very dark, and Ned wondered how the man was able to read anything especially given his age and failing eyesight.

“My lord Hand.” The old man addressed, giving a feeble attempt at a bow. “To what do I owe this pleasure.”

“Please,” Ned motioned for them to sit, “I am late in asking this I know, but you mentioned that you saw Jon Arryn before his death, you lent him a book I believe?”

“I- ah, yes, that I did.” The old man stammered.

“May I see it?” Ned inclined his head expectantly.

“Yes, yes, of course.” The old man stood and began to search his shelf. “Although, I- I should, er, warn you, it’s a- a ponderous tome. There are likely, thousands more books more, more to your liking.”

“This one will do.” Ned muttered as he read the title of the book before him: _The Lineages And Histories Of The Nobel Houses Of Westeros._

The book was, as the maester had said, incredibly boring. Ned was beginning to lose his patience and give up on the thing when something caught his eye: _Lord Rogar Baratheon, black of hair and blue of eye. Wed to Alyssa Velaryon. Issue: Boremund Baratheon, black of hair and blue of eye, and Jocelyn Baratheon, black of hair and blue of eye. _Alyssa Velaryon had been of Valyrian blood, possessed of silver hair and purple eyes, yet her two Baratheon children showed no physical signs of that blood. And after that, Jocelyn Baratheon had wed Aemon Targaryen and their daughter Rhaenys, though she was three quarters Valyrian still possessed the dark hair of Baratheon, though she had the violet eyes of a Targaryen, rather than her mothers blue.

Ned turned a page and found two more names that stood out, _Gowen Baratheon, black of hair and blue of eye, wed Tya Lannister, golden haired and green of eye. Issue: one son, died before naming, black of hair. _

Ned flocked back through the pages, and found the same result every time. Every time a Lannister married a Baratheon, the children bore the Baratheon colourings, not the Lannister. And yet… _King Robert Baratheon, black of hair and blue of eye, wed Cersei Lannister, golden haired and green of eye. Issue: Joffrey Baratheon, golden haired and green of eye, Myrcella Baratheon, golden haired and green of eye, Tommen Baratheon, golden haired and green of eye. _

_All of Roberts bastards, _Ned thought, _have look, but not his trueborn children. _A nock at the door broke him from his thoughts.

“Who is it?” He asked, trying to calm his voice.

“Lord Tyrion, My Lord.” The page called back.

“Enter.” Ned was slightly reluctant to admit the Lannister at this current moment, but it would have been rude not to.

“My Lord,” Tyrion nodded his head as he entered, “I hope I have not disturbed you.”

“I can’t honestly say that you haven’t.” Ned replied truthfully.

“What is that reading?” Tyrion asked, ignoring Ned’s comment and peering over his desk. “_The lineages and histories of the Noble Houses of Westeros. _Rather a dull read if you ask me, though the Targaryen family tree is always a joy to try and decipher.”

“What can I do for you, my Lord.” Ned asked, he was not often in the mood for idle chat and especially not now.

“Mayhaps I was simply seeking your company, Lord Stark. It is not often I have a chance to speak with you these days, you are ever so busy.” The man smirked and hitched himself up in his seat slightly. “You know, I find I have gained a greater appreciation for your homeland since my trip to the Wall. The cold, the hunger, the constant threat of wildling invaders, it truly gave me some insight into your _Northern Values._”

“What values would those be?” Ned sighed.

“Honour,” Tyrion began, rather solemn suddenly, “loyalty, valour, chivalry, but mostly honesty. There must be little time for hidden truths when Winter is always at the door.”

“No, I don’t suppose there is.” Even as Ned said it, he was realising just how many truths he was hiding, and wondered which one Tyrion knew about.

“Do you consider yourself honest, Lord Stark?” Tyrion cocked his head to the side.

“I should like to think so.” Ned felt his heartbeat quickening.

“Then I must ask, what do you make of the book?”

“The book?” Ned breathed a silent sigh of relief and confusion. “What about the book.”

“You’re a smart man, I won’t insult you. So I’ll assume you’re aware of Lord Arryn’s last words?”

“_The seed is strong._” Ned recounted. The words seemed to open a door in his mind, everything he had learned, the bastards the book the lion and the stag. “All of the kings bastards bear his likeness, but not his trueborn children.”

“No, they don’t, do they.” Tyrion agreed.

“The older boy looked so like Robert I could have sworn the lad was the same man I grew up with.”

“I can’t say I agree there, I never met the boy or your friend before his days of kingship. But I shall take your word for it.” Tyrion nodded. “What do you think that means?”

“Why are you asking me? You must already know, and if I say what I believe I will be speaking out against _your _family. Why are you here?”

“Because we both know what Robert will do when he finds out.” Tyrion lowered his head. “And I know it is only a matter of when at this point, they are not even discrete at this stage, killing Jon Arryn was pure stupidity. Robert will have nothing their heads for this.”

“And that is not a thing that bothers you?” Ned was hardly even shocked by now. “You won’t mourn your own siblings?”

“Jamie, yes. But not Cersei.” Tyrion answered flatly. “There is little that I can do for my brother, but I can help my niece and nephew. I’ve never had much love for Joffrey, but Tommen and Myrcella I love very much. I ask that you delay your meeting ugh the King for a day or two, give me enough time to take the children to safety, I’ll leave Joffrey here, if he’s wise he’ll ask to take the Black, the King cannot begrudge him that. I understand that the King must know and Jamie and Cersei must be punished, but Tommen and Myrcella are good, innocent children. They don’t deserve this.”

“No, they don’t.” Ned took a moment. He knew he could not refuse Tyrion, after all, it could easily have been Jon and Daenerys faving Roberts wrath in Tommen and Myrcella place of the wrong people had discovered what was hidden at Winterfell. “You should leave tonight, make some excuse to your sister but do not let anyone know what we have spoken of.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark.”

* * *

Oldtown

“Deny! Have you heard from Kingslanding?”

“No, what’s happened?”

“Gunthor sent a raven, it arrived this morning.” Humfrey explained. “Here, read it.”

Denyse took the paper and read it as the two siblings walked. The halls of the High Tower were quiet, though that was not so unusual at time of day. The sun has only just begun to rise, most of the servants were well at work by now, and most of the members of their family that remained there were still asleep.

“So the King is angry.” Denyse sighed, pushing the paper back into her brothers hand. “Why is that any concern of ours?”

The sound of footsteps hurrying up behind them interrupted the siblings conversation. “Have you shown her?” Leyla asked to Humfrey who nodded in reply. “What do you think?”

“I think there are more important things to worry about than Roberts mad Witch Hunt,” Denyse snapped, “we do ourselves no favours sticking our noses in where they’re not needed.”

“But they are needed.” Humfrey practically had to run to keep pace with his older sisters. “Don’t you see? A prize of 100,000 gold dragons or something of that value. This is our chance to get Lynesse back.”

“It’s too dangerous.” Denyse shook her head. “If we hand the boy over now the king will wonder how we found him and why we never said anything before. Besides, is Lynesse really wanted to come back she would have by now, she’s happy where she is that’s why she stayed away.”

Humfrey grabbed her by the arm and redirected Denyse from the way she had been walking, Leyla trailer behind them both until they reached a door at the far end of the corridor. Their brothers room. Humfrey did not even bother to knock, he knew Baelor would be awake, he always woke early so he could work in the quiet while everyone else was asleep.

“Humfrey?” Baelor looked beyond startled at the intrusion. “What do you want?”

“Read this.” With three long strides he was across the room and had slammed the paper down on his brothers desk. The two sisters stepped in while their brother was reading and closed the door behind them.

“Let me guess, you think we should give him Viserys.” Baelor’s face was hard and unreadable.

“Of course.” Humfrey said immediately. “Tell Lynesse to send him here, we’ll give him to Robert in return for her pardon. We need never tell him it was her who hid him all this time.”

“No,” Denyse stepped forward, “he’ll find out somehow and then it’ll be all our heads on the block. We all know what he did to Rhaegar’s children. And speaking of Rhaegar, are we really going to sell his brother Robert for our own gain? I’m sure none of you need reminding that it was our great uncle who was Lord Commander of Aerys kingsguard and a friend to Rhaegar. Are we to betray our own blood like that?”

“Rhaegar is dead. So is Gerold. They died years ago and nothing will bring them back. But giving Viserys to Robert will bring Lynesse back.” Humfrey urged, turning back to his brother seeking support.

“You’re both right.” Baelor admitted. “If we give him up we can get Lynesse back and likely gain some favour with the King as we do. But handing Viserys to the King could anger Robert more if he learned we had kept this from him. And house Hightower were Targaryen loyalists, but we turned our back on that, we swore ourselves to Robert. We should honour that.”

“We should.” Leyla agreed. “If we don’t be will likely find out anyway. It is better that we take control of the situation. Have Lynesse write him, say we knew nothing of this but that she’s been sheltering him since his sister ran away. She did not tell anyone this before because she was angry at her banishment and conflicted regarding her husbands death. I’m sure Robert will still pardon her, just as long as it seems we knew nothing of this.”

“I don’t agree with this.” Denyse folded her arms and stepped back. “It’s wrong.”

“No, it isn’t.” Baelor looked his sister straight in the eyes. “We all know what Lynesse has said about the boy. Viserys may be Rhaegar’s brother, but he is far more Aerys than he Rhaegar. And if what he says is true his little sister ran away the first chance she had, she’s likely dead by now. Though Lynesse has always said she’s not entirely sure Viserys did not kill the girl himself, and from what I’ve heard of him I’d agree with her.”

“Let the war end here, Deny.” Leyla pleaded. “Let the dragons die, the world will be better for it. As long as one Targaryen is alive, we will never be done with this war. If we can end it then we should. Let there be peace for a change.”

Denyse was silent, all eyes rested on her. As the heir and oldest of the sibling, Baelor could have made the decision himself and ignored Denyse’s opinions entirely, but he wouldn’t. He needed al of their consents before informing their father.

“Very well.” She said finally. “Write to Lynesse. Do what Ley said, Robert can never know that we were aware of any of this.”

Humfrey smiled. “I’ll let father know.” He took the letter and left them, but surprisingly, the smiled he had just adorned tasted suddenly very bitter on his lips. And his heart felt as if someone had reached into his chest and wrapped both hands around it, _guilt_, he thought, _I feel guilty._


	15. When She Woke

** Kingslanding: the middle of the night  **

** **

Myrcella woke with a hand over her mouth. The room was pitch black and silent except for the sound of breathing coming from above her head. She always left her drapes open in the summer, so that she could wake with the sun in the morning, she had been given east facing rooms for this specific purpose. So unless her intruders has closed them she knew it must still be night.

“Shh,” the voice above her hushed, it was a familiar voice and kind, though in her still half asleep state she could not quite determine the speaker, “you’re in no danger, but you must stay completely silent, understand?”

She nodded. The man removed his hand and Myrcella heard him strike a match, spilling light into the room and revealing the figure of another man at the door. Cautiously, she sat up and looked towards the intruder. The moment she saw his face it felt as if there had been a heavy stone upon her chest that instantly turned to feathers and floated away at the sight of him.

“Uncle Tyrion?” How could she not have realised before? It was so clearly his voice. “What are you doing? What’s happening?”

“Nothing you need to worry about now.” He handed her a candle. “I’ll explain everything once we’re out of the city.”

“Out of the city?” Myrcella felt panic rising in her stomach. “Why do we have to leave? Why now it’s the middle of the night?”

“Shhh!” Tyrion hissed. He grabbed her by her free hand and pulled her to her feet. Even at age nine, Myrcella towered over her uncle who was now attempting to silently open a wardrobe and stuff some clothes into a bag. “There’s no time to dress properly now, put this on quickly,” he passed a dress that could easily be fastened on the side by herself, “ find your cloak and boots, that will have to do.”

Myrcella did as she was told, part out of tiredness making her unable to argue with him, part out of fear, because her uncle truly did sound afraid.

As soon as her boots were laced and her cloak was on Tyrion whisked her out the door, the man in the door way lead the way and Myrcella heard a small voice whispering behind her.

“Myrcella!” He was trying to be quiet, but he was still loud enough to earn a stern look from his uncle.

“Tommen!” Myrcella made sure to be much quieter than her brother and she pulled the little boy towards her so they could walk together.

She recognised the man in front of her now, it was Lord Varys, her fathers master of whispers. Glancing quickly behind she saw the man who must have been holding Tommen, his name she did not know but she had often seen him by Tyrion’s side since he returned from the North. _Mother says he’s a commoner, a cutthroat, and a robber, I mustn’t even look at him she says. _

Varys took them down many complicated tunnels and side roads as they left the Red Keep, some of them Myrcella recognised from when she had played hide and seek with Tommen when they were younger. Other passages seemed as if they were being conjured up by magic, she could not quite understand how they took her so far across the Keep in so short a time. And in no time at all they were out of her home and into the streets of Kingslanding.

The spider seemed to know the city just as well as he knew the Castle, for it took them mere moments to reach the Lions Gate. Outside there were four horses saddled and waiting.

“My friends shall meet you on the way, ride hard and fast and do not stop.” Varys was talking to Uncle Tyrion, but Myrcella could hear every word. “They’ll escort your to Silverhill and from there I’m sure your fathers own men will come for you. You did write him, didn’t you?”

“In a way. I told him I was bringing the children and he should send men to Silverhill to receive us. He’ll know about Cersei soon enough, as will everyone else. I can only hope he’ll chose his blood over Robert.” Tyrion’s voice was low, and far more serious than it was when he spoke with Myrcella normally. He called his niece and nephew over to him. “I need you two to be very brave, and to wait a little longer before I can answer your questions. You just need to trust me, I’m trying to protect you. This city is not safe for you anymore, or it won’t be, come the morrow.”

“But won’t our father keep us safe?” Tommen asked, trying and failing to be quiet again.

Tyrion almost looked as if he were going to laugh. “I’m afraid your father won’t be able to protect you. The only way is to leave, now.”

“Where is Joffrey?” Myrcella asked. He was in no way her favourite brother or even someone she liked very much, but he was her brother and she wanted to know why he was not being taken away too if they were in such danger.

“Joffrey is almost a man grown now, he does not need me to protect him.” Tyrion started to lead them both towards their horses. “Besides, I doubt he would want my help even if id offered it.”

Myrcella watched as the sellsword man lifted her brother onto his horse so that the prince was sat behind him. “You hold on tight,” the man said, smirking, “ I don’t want you flying off.” Tyrion handed the boy some rope so that he could tie himself to the horse and the man he was riding with.

Two guards wearing the colours of Myrcella’s house stepped forwards and mounted two of the remaining horses while her uncle climbed onto his own horse. Just as she was wondering how she was supposed to travel without a horse, one of the guards walked his horse towards her and offered her his hand to bring her into the horse. She noticed that this guard too had a rope to attach her onto the horse with, however she was sat in front of the guard, not behind him like Tommen was with their uncles friend. _It’s a good thing I am small _she thought to herself _I don’t think Tommen would be able to fit at the front. _

** Kingslanding: several hours later **

** **

Arya woke to the sound of the birds, and the sunlight creeping across her wall. It took her no time to dress and make her way to breakfast. As always, she had arrived before her sister but not before her father.

“Father.” She sat down opposite him and began filling her plate with food.

“Arya.” Her father seemed nervous, not the sort of nervous that Arya would sometimes get, he wasn’t fidgety or distracted, he was still. _Still and calm water. _He ate as he always did, drank as he always did, and yet everything was wrong. Arya could see his mind was focused on something else, something that wasn’t his breakfast, or even his daughter.

“Is everything alright, father?” She asked, putting her cup down and pausing as she ate.

Her father was slow in replying, making sure to finish his drink before looking at his daughter. “It will be.” Something in his voice told Arya the truth, and it sent a shiver down her spine. But it nothing would ever chill her the way his next comment did. He said it in passing, as if it weren’t important. “I think maybe you should take your Needle to your dancing lesson today. Syrio won’t mind, you’re ready. You should keep it close.” His grey eyes never left hers, Arya could not think of any response but to nod.

Arya ate the rest of her food in silence, Sansa and Jeyne arrived soon and they entirely ignored her which was, of course, what she had expected and hoped for. Though part of her truly did which at that moment that she could tell her sister what their father had just said, that she could share this fear she felt, but Sansa would not want to listen. _Larra would listen. Larra would know what to do and say. But she isn’t here. And I’m going to be late for my dancing lesson. _

The walk to the small council chamber told Ned that Tyrion has succeeded with his escape, for the whole way there he could hear Cersei screaming. Opening the doors to the chamber was like walking unarmed into the lions den.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” The Queen screeched. “MY CHILDREN ARE MISSING WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY HAVE BEEN DOING?”

“Breaking my fast, with my own children.” Ned knew he was being facetious, but he needed to be.

“Careful Ned.” Robert growled. Ned noticed that he did not look well. “Tommen and Myrcella have been taken, this is no time to be difficult. They could be in danger.”

“They aren’t.”

“And how do you know that?” Cersei hissed. Her emerald green eyes were that of a snake as she looked Ned up and down. “You know where they are, don’t you. Where are they? Who took them?”

“On their way to Casterly Rock, with your brother Tyrion.”

“And why exactly did the Imp see fit to steal two of my children?” Robert furrowed his brow in anger and confusion.

“To protect them.” Ned bowed his head.

“From who?” Robert demanded, standing from his seat so violently the chair fell over behind him.

“From you.” Now, Ned made sure not to break his gaze, he looked his friend straight in the eyes as he spoke. “From how you will react when I tell you what I’m about to tell you.”

Ned saw Cersei’s face change slightly, but only for a second. “Unless what you have to say involves how we are going to bring my children back I suggest you hold your tongue and wait for a more appropriate time.”

“Forgive me, your grace but this is the only appropriate time.” Most of the small council members seemed just as confused as Robert was, Ned regretted that he had to tell them all, but it was the safest way to ensure what he had to say was heard. “Robert, none of your children by this woman are your own.”

“What are you talking about?” Roberts brow descended further in confusion, though everyone else at the table had clearly understood the message.

“They are all of them bastards. Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella are not your children. And that is why Jon Arryn died. Isn’t that right?” He looked at Cersei now, her face was even paper than usual, and Ned saw her hands were slightly trembling.

“What do you mean to suggest? That I have been unfaithful to my husband? I would never.” She said with great conviction, but them she has always been an excellent liar. “Besides who pray tell do you believe I have been unfaithful with, and why?”

Ned now produced the book he had been reading. “I believe your children are not the kings because of this. There are several accounts in this where a Lannister has wed a Baratheon, and every time the children of such a marriage have born semblance to the Stag and not the Lion. But your children, Cersei, are Lannister’s without a doubt.”

“So this is what you base your accusations on?” Cersei scoffed. “The appearance of my children, you condemn them because they do not have their fathers look?”

“No, I think they do have their fathers look, but Robert isn’t their father.” Ned glances at the table, all the other council members were sat completely still, refusing to take their eyes away from they own hands.

“Our first boy, he had my look.” Robert said, quietly, looking directly at Cersei. “But he died. The rest have been all you.”

“I’ve seen your other children, your grace,” Ned said, it Robert continued to stare at his wife, “they all have your look. I know it’s been years since you saw Mya, but did she not have your look?”

“Yes.” Robert still would not look at Ned, but he noticed Cersei flinch slightly at the sound of Mya’s name. Robert was silent for a moment before continuing. “Mya’s mother was blonde too.”

“Robert…” Cersei’s voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“You’ve said it yourself, half a hundred times woman.” Roberts eyes finally left his wife and traveled to the door. “Joffrey is the very image of the Kingslayer at that age.”

All the colour that remained to Cersei now drained from her face. Ned felt for her what he never thought he could; pity.

“Ser Arys!” Robert yelled, the knight entered the room and bowed to his king. “Fetch your brothers, all of them, I want them here now. And Joffrey, bring him too.”

“Your grace, I’m afraid her grace asked Ser Jaime to find Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella. He’s preparing to leave as we speak.”

“Get him first, on no account may that man leave the city! Do you hear me?” Robert was all but screaming now.

“Your grace.” The kingsguard bowed and ran from the hall.

Robert turned now to the two kingsguard who remained in the room, Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Manden Moore. “Restrain _her_.” Robert pointed at Cersei, spitting out his words.

“You think yourself so clever, don’t you Lord Stark.” Cersei began to laugh, almost hysterically as the guards took her by the arms. “I bet you thought you’d gotten away with it didn’t you? Well if I am to go down for this then I shall take you with me.”

“Silence woman!” Robert growled.

“No, I think you should know what your _dear friend Ned _has been doing since you saw him last.” Cersei gave a smirk in Ned’s direction that froze him where he stood. _She doesn’t know, she can’t know. _“Tell me, Lord Stark, your wife’s maid, what was her name again?”

“Larra.” Ned forced himself to hold her gaze, to stand his ground, _but if she is asking then must already know, but how?_

“Ah yes, Larra from Lys, am I correct?” Cersei laughed. “Clever.”

“What are you saying woman?” Robert demanded, slamming a fat hand down on the table.

“I’m surprised you yourself didn’t see it, dear husband.” That name angered Robert beyond words, but Cersei spoke over his indignation. “It took Jaime a matter of seconds to notice the resemblance, though I suppose if you looked at her at all it would not have been for her face would it? Are you still confused? Do you not understand? I shall speak more plainly then; Lord Stark here has been hiding the Mad Kings daughter in Winterfell, right under all our noses. He died her hair of course, but he could not hide her eyes.”


	16. An unexpected reunion

** The Kingsroad  **

“You had best eat quickly my lady,” Barristan suggested, “if we ride well today we should make Kingslanding before nightfall, and I’m sure we’d all be glad to be off the road.”

The old knight gave her a smile, and Dany knew he was not saying this unkindly, but for her arriving in Kingslanding would mean death. It could well mean Jon’s death too, and to Daenerys that would be far worse. When they had first set out from Winterfell Ser Barristan and the men with him had objected to Jon coming in place of one of Lord Eddard’s trueborn sons, but Jon had argued his case well, and when Roberts letter of instruction was brought out as evidence it became clear that Robert never stated the son that came to Kingslanding could not be a bastard. So it was settled, and the Kings men had no choice to allow him to come. They drew the line at Ghost coming though, Jon had tried to argue at first, but he knew he was pushing his luck as it was and left the issue alone. Dany had cried, silently, when she saw the way the wolf tried to follow them. It did not whine, it never did, but it’s sad red eyes followed them out of the castle and onto the Kingsroad.

“Yes Ser, I’m sure we’d all be thankful for that.” Daenerys had grown almost fond of Ser Barristan during their time together, the old man was the only one of the Kings men, in fact he was probably the only person ever, who called her _“my lady_”.

Ser Barristan was not a hard man to be fond of truth be told. He had a kind face, and he was ever polite and even friendly to Dany and Jon despite them being his prisoners. Dany had learned a lot about Roberts rebellion from Arya back in Winterfell, so she knew the old knight had know her brother, Rhaegar, so one day she decided to ask him about the brother who had died before she was born.

“Ser Barristan, is it true that you knew my brother, Rhaegar?” She asked.

“Yes.” The old knight hadn’t looked at her when he spoke, Dany found that odd, he always looked at her. He always smiled at her too, but not today.

“Would you mind if I asked what he was like?” She had inquired further, trying to learn _something _about him.

“I’m afraid I would mind, my lady.” He has said, to Dany’s great surprise. “And I would appreciate it if you did not ask again.” So Dany hadn’t asked again.

Daenerys was surprised to hear how close they were to Kingslanding, she’d heard Cersei say that it had taken their party over a month to travel to Winterfell when they came, though I suppose a smaller group will travel much faster. It had taken them little over a fortnight.

Jon sat close by, sharpening his sword as he often did in the morning. He had not been allowed a sword at first, but their party had been attacked early in their journey. No one died but Jon made a point of the fact he had not been able to defend himself, or Daenerys, when he had no sword, so Ser Barristan had allowed him one and the other guards had been extra wary of keeping theirs close at hand ever since. Jon admitted he thought it a complement once, that so many grown men were afraid of what he might do.

“Ser Barristan says we’ll be there by the end of the day, if we ride fast.” Dany said as she approached her friend.

Jon looked up, eyes wide in a moment of alarm, but he recovered quickly. “I guess we’ll have to ride slowly then.”

“No,” Dany tried to hide her smile, but it was almost impossible when she was with Jon, “I’d rather just be done with all this now, get there tonight if we can.”

“Alright,” he sighed and stood, making to walk away, “I guess we should set if then.”

“Not yet.” Dany put a hand out to stop him. “I need your help with something first.”

She explained to him what she wanted him to do. “Are you sure?” He asked.

“Completely.” She decided. “Robert has won, he found me. I will not hide anymore. When we ride through the gates of Kingslanding tomorrow I want everyone to see who I am, I want everyone to see that I am Daenerys Targaryen, and I will not hide anymore.”

Once it was done Dany counted that it must had been five years since she had last seen her hair in its full natural colour, it was the first time anyone else had seen her with it too, so the rest of the party seemed all but mesmerised by it.

Ser Barristan looked as if he had seen a ghost when she mounted her horse and trotted up beside him. “I am ready, Ser.” Was all she said.

It was approaching sunset when they reached the Kingsgate of Kingslanding, and Dany’s wish had clearly been granted. Everyone they passed stared at her as if she had just ridden in on a unicorn in place of a horse. She rode in the middle of the column, of course, so that she could not run, but where the streets grew narrow the two riders at her sides had to move behind her so everyone they passed had a clear view of Dany.

They had been in Kingslanding barely five minutes when the crowds began to form, word must clearly have spread. _I will not hide, I am Daenerys Targaryen, I do not fear the whispers of men. _But the whispers grew louder and louder, until their words ceased to be hushed.

“Targaryen, she must be.”

“I thought her kind was all dead.”

“The King put a ransom on the last dragons, I heard.”

“I wonder who found her.”

“Who _is she _though?”

Dany overheard the final part of one conversation.

“Is she Rhaegar’s daughter?” A woman asked.

“No, the girl was murdered by the Lannister’s. This must be Rhaegar’s _sister, _Aerys last child.” Replied an old man

“I didn’t know the mad king had a daughter.” The woman replied.

“She’ll be mad like him.” A younger man joined in. 

“No,” said the old man, “she won’t.”

“How would you know?” The younger man demanded.

“Because I was alive when the Targaryens ruled here, and that girl is the very image of Queen Rhaella. There’s none of her father in her face.”

At that last comment Dany could not help but look down, the crowds were so thick around them now that the city watch had come to push them back. Dany looked in the sea of people below her, wondering where the man was, the one who spoke of her mother, but she would not recognise him, even if she saw him. Instead she found herself facing hundreds of Kingslanders. What was that look in their eyes? _Intrigue? Confusion? Fear? Hate? _The last thought stung her the most, thinking that these people could hate her without ever having known her seemed the most unfair thing in the world.

One little dark haired girl was staring up at her, wide eyed. The girl reminded her of Arya when she had been younger, with her messy hair and ripped knees, she could not help but smile. And to her surprise, the little girl smiled back. That small act was enough to calm most of her nerves.

Another Kingsguard was waiting at the gates to the Red Keep, Dany did not recognise him. Stepping down from her horse made her feel more vulnerable than she care to admit. When mounted she could at least be seated above everyone, and have the potential opportunity to run if she had to. But now she was small again, and trapped. She looked behind her and saw Jon, he did not look frightened, his face was blank.

“You’re scared.” He said quietly, so only she could hear. “Don’t let them see.”

Dany nodded and tried her best to harden her face. “Stay close.”

Jon squeezed her hand and gave her a small smile. “Always.”

The guards began to walk towards the two if them, one of them held a pair of shackles. Ser Barristan had allowed her to go the journey from Winterfell unrestrained once they reached the Neck, he thought she would not know that land and would be less like to run. He was right. But now that they were entering the usurper’s home, it was clear she was no longer to be trusted with the use of her own hands. Dany had to let go of Jon’s hand so the guard could put the chains on, she was shocked at how hard that one tiny thing had been, how unclenching her fist made her feel as if someone else had clenched their fist around her chest.

They were led through hallways and corridors and courtyards for what felt like days, they journey passing through Dany’s mind like a haze. It could not have been more than 10 minutes before they were standing outside the doors to what she had been told was the Small Council chamber, but to Dany it seemed as if 10 hours had passed.

“Send them in.” Came a booming voice behind the door after Ser Barristan had announced them.

The room was large, larger than most at Winterfell, and finely decorated with marble pillars, Myrish rugs and stained glass windows. In the centre was a table with 7 men sat around it. She recognised Three men immediately, King Robert, Lord Stannis and Eddard Stark. The rest of the men were strangers to her.

“So that’s her?” Robert laughed, Dany could tell the man was already in his cups. She did not like the feel of his eyes on her, it was different to that of other men, Dany did not like the stares she usually received from men, but at least she was used to those sorts of stares. The usurpers eyes were full of hate, it scared Dany beyond words did that look in his eyes. “I must have seemed a blind fool to you, Ned. How long was I in Winterfell? Close to a month I’d wager, and not once did I see what was right under my nose.”

Dany noticed that Lord Stark wore chains as well, and while he did not look unwell it was clear he was just as much a prisoner now as she was. No body knew how to respond to the king without causing insult, and given the kings apparent mood, insulting him would likely result in some injury. Dany was still watching Lord Stark when she saw him look up and his face fell even further than before as he noticed Jon, still stood by the door. Once Ned saw him Robert acknowledge his presence as well.

“You, boy.” Robert barked. “I recognise you, you’re the bastard aren’t you?”

“Jon Snow, Your grace.” Jon took a step forwards so he was in line with Ser Barristan.

“And why pray tell are you here?” Robert sat back in his chair and reached for his cup, his eyes now flicking over Jon in a much less hateful way than they had over Dany, but it still could not be described as a kind look.

“Your grace sent for one of Lord Eddard’s sons to come to Kingslanding.” Jon stood tall and subtly returned the distainful stare. “I am one of Lord Eddard’s sons.”

“I meant a _trueborn _son and you damned well knew it.” Robert growled, clearly growing more and more irritated by the second.

“With respect, your grace,” Jon bowed his head, “that was never specified in your letter. We checked it thoroughly with Ser Barristan before we left Winterfell.”

“It’s true your grace.” Barristan added, slightly sheepishly.

“Did none of you think to use a bit of intuitive and tell him he couldn’t come?” Robert asked, exasperated.

“He made a very convincing case, your grace.” Barristan offered.

“Well you’re here now. I suppose you’ll want a word with your _son _Lord Stark.” Robert gave his former friend a cold look, then nodded to Ser Barristan before directing his attention back to Daenerys. “And I’d like to speak with her.”

Ser Barristan held out an arm to direct Jon and one of the other guards went to help Lord Stark from his seat. As they walked from the room Dany noticed the way Jon tried to offer his father an arm, but Lord Stark declined the offer. It was a polite refusal, but from Lord Eddard it could just as well have been a slap to the face. Jon looked at her back over his shoulder, one last time, as he exited the room.

“Hmm, Daenerys, yes?” The usurper wasn’t looking at her anymore, he was staring at the contents of his cup.

“Yes.” Dany kept her face still, or tried to at least.

“How old are you girl? Must be around 14 I’d say.”

“Yes.”

“Not just yes, yes _your grace.” _Robert snapped, his head flicking upward so he was looking at her again. “I am the King, you will address me as such.”

“Yes, _your grace._” Dany added a deep curtesy too, she knew she was being facetious, but if she was to die she might as enjoy her final hours.

“Well, _Daenerys_, there’s someone here I think you’d like to see.” Robert bristled at the slight and clicked his fingers at the guards at the door.

The man left the room and the council was silent for a moment. Daenerys took the opportunity to look at the men of the small council. She recognised Stannis and Robert, there was another man there who’s look so strongly resembled Roberts that Daenerys assumes he had to be Lord Renly. The maester she knew from his uniform, the grey robes and chain collar. The final two men were a large bald man in a finely detailed silk robe, and a thin man with grey hair, a small pointed beard and a mockingbird pin on his collar.

Dany remembered hearing about the Kings master of coin, Lord Baelish, often called Little Finger, and from the stack of paper and books before him, Dany assumed the man with the mockingbird pin must be him. But the bald mans face and identity remained unknown to her. Dany only realised she had been staring when the bald man lifted his head and raised his eyes from his hands to Dany’s own eyes. She looked away quickly, and that was when the door re opened.

The guards were dragging someone by the arms. They dropped him at her feat and Daenerys gasped.

“_Viserys.” _Dany dropped to her knees and reached her hands out to grab him by the arms. 

“_Dany_,” Viserys whispered weakly, the ghost of a smile passing his face for a second, only for it to change suddenly to a look of despair.

Dany thought of the last time she had seen her brother, almost five years ago. Then, Viserys had seemed far scarier, though now his face was so gaunt and grey from hunger and abuse that he looked like a ghost and must surely have been a more terrifying sight for anyone else. But for Dany, seeing her brother in this state made her feel nothing but pity, pity and anger. “What have they done to you? How did they find you?”

“Lynesse, the Hightower woman. She sold me to him.” Vid grabs her arm or something “but how did they find _you_? I swear to you on my life I never told a soul, I would never, I would _never…_” his voice trailed away as he began to cough too much to speak.

“What did you do to him!” Dany turned to the council, suddenly angrier than she had every been, infuriated that they had humiliated the last family she had in such a way.

“Nothing more than he deserved.” Robert growled. “And you ought to hold your tongue, _girl_, lest you wish the same upon yourself.”

Daenerys kept her mouth shut and turned her attention back to her brother. She had spent years in fear of him, but he was still family and she loved him._ But I cannot save him, no more than he can save me. _


	17. In Elegant Rooms

** The dungeons of the Red Keep **

** **

_I am the blood of the dragon, I will be brave, I will not break. I am the blood of the dragon, they will not see my fear. _Daenerys had been chanting the same phases in her mind for the past two hours, ever since they had dragged Viserys away and taken her to her own cell in the Dungeons of the Red Keep.

Several times she had caught the guards in the other side of the door peering though the grate, trying to catch a look at the latest prisoner to grace their cells. Dany did not like their looks. Not one bit. It reminded her of the time she had spent in Essos, how her and Viserys would flit from house to house, Manse to hovel, relying entirely on what she had originally perceived to be the kindness of strangers. She quickly learned what it really was; rich eastern men showing off their latest curiosity, the mad kings children, the last of the Valyrians. _And now we are to die, and the last trace of Valyria will die with us. _

It was an unsettling thought, not something she would usually dwell on but seeing Viserys again had awoken in her mind all of his teachings from when they were children.

_How long have I been here? How much longer will I have to wait? If they wish me dead then let me just die, this waiting is the worst part. _There was a sound from the door, the clanking of keys, and then entered a man dressed all in black. _Alas, my prayers have been answered, _Daenerys thought almost hysterically.

She inspected the man at the door, realising she recognised his dress as that of the Begging Brothers they had encountered on the Kingsroad. When she investigated the man more closely still she recognised his face to be that of the bald man from the small council, the one she had not know. 

“I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion my dear, only I regret we were not properly introduced earlier.” The bald man said. “My name is Varys, I am the Kings master of whispers.”

“Master of whispers?” Daenerys could not recall ever hearing this position before, but it did not require much intelligence to guess what could be involved in this job. _I wonder, could this be the man who revealed my location to Robert. _

“Indeed. It is my job to tell the king all the secrets of the realm.” Varys confirmed the suspicious she had on what his job entailed. “But you need have no fear of me, your grace, it was not I who told the King where you were.”

“I am going to die soon, my Lord, I would respect you not to mock me with that title.” Dany has been called many things in her lifetime, but somehow, in this place, _the grace _was the most offensive thing he could have called her. “And if it was neither you nor my brother who told Robert where I was then how did he find me.”

“Cersei told him. Lord Stark told the King a secret about Jaime and Cersei, so Cersei told the King a secret about your father.” Daenerys had a suspicion that this man was oversimplifying his words on purpose, it was as if he wasn’t used to talking to someone her age, for he spoke to her as if she were a child. “And I did not mean to mock you, it was merely a term of courtesy, _your grace._”

“I respect that it is a term of courtesy, but it is not one that I have earned nor have I ever worn it.” Dany felt extremely unnerved by the term, else she would not have been so pedantic.

“I understand, I shall stop.” Varys bowed his head, but his eyes stayed on her. “You have not asked what the secret was.”

“What secret?” Dany had not entirely been following what he had said as she had been so preoccupied by the title, _Mayhaps the man should simplify his words even further for my benefit. _

“Cersei’s secret.” Varys voice lost some of its sweetness now, it was colder, more direct. “I think you must either be incredibly disinterested in what I am telling you, or already in possession of this knowledge.”

“The later, I think. That’s how Cersei knew who I was. I saw her and Jaime in the broken tower at Winterfell. Brandon Stark saw too, so Jaime pushed him from the window.”

“I know.” Varys looked to be smirking. “I suppose they realised who you were and then, well, you were at an impasse, neither one could expose the other without risking themselves being revealed.” Dany nodded. “And that is why you never told Lord Eddard.”

“I couldn’t.” Dany agreed.

The two stood in silence for a moment, each taking the others measure, it seemed to Dany. Varys looked completely different to how he had at the council meeting. When she had first seen him the big man had been finely dressed in a violet silk robe. He had been sat so Dany had not been able to fully see his size, but she had noted the way he held his hands, how he hid them up his sleeves as if he was scared his fingers may freeze. They were both stood now and Dany noted that he still held his hands that way, hidden. It made her uneasy, as did his look as he took in her appearance as she did his. His expression towards her was blank, even his eyes gave no tell of his motives.

“Do you know who built the Red Keep?” Varys asked suddenly.

“Of course, Maegor the Cruel.” Daenerys would not have know if not for Arya telling her after a history lesson one time.

“Well done, and do you know what Maegor the cruel did you the builders of this fine castle once it was built?” Varys raised a brow, leaning in slightly.

“He invited them all to a feast and poisoned them?” Daenerys had remembered that detail vividly, it served as a reminder for her family’s predilection for cruelty.

“Why?” The bald man smirked.

“So that no one but Maegor would know the secrets of the Red Keep.”

“Yes.” He nodded, leaning in further. “Sadly for Maegor however his plan somewhat failed. The tunnels and passages that run throughout this castle are impossible to find, _unless you know where to look. _And luckily for you I have spent years creating a map of these tunnels in my mind.”

“Your point?” Dany had had nearly enough of this mans riddles and boasts.

“They are rather intriguing, I must admit.” Varys completely ignored her question and continued his own exposition, much to Dany’s annoyance. “You never quite know what you will find down there. For instance, last week I found something in one particularly chamber of these tunnels that I never would have predicted; a wolf amongst dragons.”

“Please,” Daenerys stooped him when he paused for breath, “my time is precious to me, I have so little of it left, please just say what you mean.”

“I see the Northern directness has rubbed off on you. I shall respect your wish, I am telling you that beneath this castle is a dungeon containing the skulls of your ancestors dragons, Robert moved them there after he was crowned. And in this room I found a friend of yours, little Arya Stark.”

“Arya!” Of all the things Dany expected to come out of his mouth, this was not one of them. “They said she was missing.”

“Well she was. And now she is not. Not to me at least.” Varys straighten his back. 

“What did you do with her?”

“Please, Princess, you misread me entirely. _I am not your enemy_. I did not hurt the girl, though she gave me a bit of scare I must admit, I had not been expecting a small child to accost me during my walk and hold a sword to my neck, but she saw sense when I explained to her I was a friend.”

“_What did you do with her?_” Dany insisted.

“I sent her to some friends in the city, they are hiding her until she can find a way to escape.” Varys gave her what Daenerys assumes was meant to be a reassuring look.

“So she’s safe?”

“Yes, as safe as anyone can be.” Varys nodded, genuinely sincere. “But that was not the point of this conversation I must admit, I simply told you this in the hopes it would earn me some of you’re trust. Have I earned that?”

Slowly, Dany nodded, unsure at first, but then she looked into Varys’ face. _He knew where I was, likely the whole time, I believe him that he did not tell the king. And he says also that he has moved Arya to somewhere safe, this man has done me no wrongs as I know, I think he has earned some trust. _“Yes.”

“Good.” Varys crouched down and beckoned for her to do the same. “The truth is that I am here to ask you a question, many questions in truth, but only one that I truly care about being answered.”

“Ask me.” Dany invited.

“First let me say this, you know of your family’s history, and specifically it’s history with madness. You are clearly an clever girl I shan’t insult your intelligence. You know your ancestor Maegor was mad, you’ve already said this, and I assume you have heard at least some of what your own father was like.” Dany nodded, somewhat reluctantly. “Good. There is a saying, you have likely heard; every time a Targaryen is born the gods flip a coin and the world holds its breath. I don’t like this saying, it enforces an idea that has little truth behind it, that half the Targaryens were mad. Many of them were… odd, I’ll grant, but very few were truly mad. I am happy to say that from what I know of you tells me you are not one of these people.”

“I thank you.” Dany said, unsure as to whether it truly was a compliment.

“You’re welcome. But I must ask you now, what sort of man is your brother?” Dany was taken aback.

“Viserys?” She stuttered. “I haven’t seen him in years, I doubt I am the best person to ask.”

“On the contrary, you are the only person who truly knows him. You lived with him for nine years.”

“And I have been apart from him for the last 4.”

“Daenerys,” Varys’ voice was hard now, stern. It had lost all softness, “you need to be honest. Do you think Viserys is mad?”

“He’s my brother.” Dany whispered, pleadingly. Vis had never been the kindest of siblings, but he was still her family, and there were memories of him that Daenerys treasured above all else.

“And how did he treat you. I hear he wasn’t always too kind.”

“No.” Dany lowered her head and sighed, squeezing her eyes shut so she would not cry, she hated the taste the words she spoke would leave in her mouth. “Yes, I think one day he could be mad as my father if not worse, if he isn’t already.”

“Thank you.”

“What will you do now?” Dany asked.

“Nothing. The King has already decided. I am sorry to be the one to tell you this I truly am, but you and your brother will not live past the end of the week.”

“Then why did you ask me this!” Dany cried. “Why want to know Viserys temper?”

“I wanted to know if he was a king worth backing. Or at least if he was better than Robert.”

“I think anyone would be better than the usurper!” Dany felt her voice rise as anger, fear and grief all wrestled within her.

“Anyone expect your brother, I’m afraid.”

“And if Viserys were a better choice?” Dany stood. “What then?”

“Then the two of you might just find yourself being kept by a pair of careless guards, who fall asleep on duty and happen to leave the door to your cell unlocked.” Varys stood too and towered over her. “But alas you have already told me that he is mad. So you will both suffer Roberts wrath. I’m sorry my dear, regrettable as this thing is I cannot risk myself on a fools quest.”

The bald man turned with an apologetic bow and made for the door. Dany head began to swim, their conversation replayed inside her head and suddenly an idea came to her.

“Varys!” She called, the big man turned and Dany thought she could see a hint of a smile on his face. “My brother is a poor choice for king, yes, but you considered him anyway. Because he is a Targaryen, yes?”

“Yes.”

“I am a Targaryen too, and as you yourself say, I am not mad.”

“That is true.” Varys nodded. “But you are also a girl, and a young one. That makes you a less attractive candidate, and therefore-”

“- not worth the risk?” She interrupted. There was a moment of silence as Dany thought. “How am I too be executed? Beheading?”

“No,” Varys looked down, he seemed truly regretful for what he said next, “you’re to be burned at the stake. Robert thought it poetic.”

Varys looked at her and expected to see fear upon the child’s face, instead he saw her smile. “Then I intend to prove to you how attractive a candidate for the throne that I am. Where is the execution to take place?”

“The Dragonpit, I believe.” Varys looked wary.

“Do you have any influence over where exactly it happens?”

“I can, why?”

Dany ignored his question. “I spoke to my friend early, Jon. He said that my brother brought three dragon eggs with him, gifts from some Essosi Lord he had stayed with. Is this true?”

“Yes.” Varys answered. “Robert wants them burned too. He plans to have one great pyre and keep it burning for a day and a night. The Kingslayer and Queen Cersei will he burned also.”

“Very well. You must make sure Robert burns the eggs.” Dany beckoned him closer so she could whisper then next part of her plan. “And you must do these two last things.”

She told him her plan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for ending it like that. The next chapter will probably be the execution or a scene with Ned, let me know which you’d prefer.   
I hope you guys are all staying safe and inside right now, i know this isn’t related to the fic I just want to make sure everyone is alright and coping with self isolation and social distancing.  
If anyone here reads my other fic (After The Dance) and is wondering if it’s stopped it hasn’t I’ve just been struggling to find time to write recently, I’ve been super busy. Now obviously I’m inside all the time so I’ll try get the next chapter finished ASAP.


	18. The Same Thing He’d Been Saying For Hours; Burn Them All

The tower of the hand felt cold. Far colder than any room in Winterfell. The windows were always open but the doors were always locked. Jon knew there was more to the tower than what he had seen, but in the week he had spent there the only parts of the Red Keep he had truly seen where his bed chamber, his fathers Solar, the small council chamber, and the dungeons. He had visited Dany as soon as he could and told her all his father had told him, which wasn’t much in truth.

The only important piece of information he’d learned was that Arya was missing, she had been since fathers arrest. To Jon’s surprise, his father didn’t seem too worried about the disappearance of his youngest daughter. When Jon had asked him where she might be and while he wasn’t worried, the answer had not been what he’d expected.

“You gave her a sword, did you not.” Jon was taken aback.

“I- it was a goodbye present. Only a small one.” He’d admitted.

“I’m not angry. I’m glad.” His father had sighed. “Arya was having _dancing lessons_ with a Bravosi named Forel. The day I told Robert about his Cersei I knew something would go wrong, so I told Arya to take her real sword to her lesson. I hoped she wouldn’t have to use it, but when I was arrested and confined here they brought Sansa here too, and they told me Arya was nowhere to be found.” The most surprising thing to happen to Jon when he arrived in the city, was having the sister he thought despised him come running out of her room to hug him. He hadn’t expected her to even acknowledge him let alone be happy he was there.

“But you don’t think she’s in trouble?” Jon asked, “Father she is ten years old!”

“Aye, she’s ten. She also killed three men in what I assume was her escape.”

“What?”

“They found three men, each in a similar part of the Keep, all with several very thin stab wounds to their chests.” His father sighed again. “I saw the blade you had made for her, almost skinny as she is. Wherever she is l- she’s always been good with people. She’ll have found some kind old woman to take her in, else she’s living rough on the streets of Kingslanding. Either way, you know her well as I, she’ll manage fine.”

“What about when you leave?” Jon asked. He’d known for a while that Robert wouldn’t punish his father harshly, the two men were practically brothers after all. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it. You, Sansa and Arya were supposed to go home and I would stay here. Of course they probably wanted Robb or Bran, but they have me.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” his father brushed past the question Jon had asked, “why did you come? I understand you wanted to protect your brothers, but this was foolish. The Kings temper is mercurial at the best of times, but with Cersei and this business with the Targaryens, you’re lucky he hasn’t sent you home yet. Or executed you.”

“That _Targaryen business is_ the reason I came.” Jon was fighting back his frustration now, he had put himself at risk, he knew. But his father wouldn’t even thank him for protecting the lives of his brothers. “Dany is my friend and I didn’t want her to be alone. Besides, there was no other option. Bran is to marry Princess Shireen so he’ll be related to Robert by marriage soon anyway. And it would take too long to get word to Dragonstone. Rickon is a baby, it couldn’t be him.”

“And Robb? I doubt he was happy about this.”

“No, he wasn’t happy about it.” Jon agreed. “But with you here he was needed at Winterfell. He’s a good Lord you know. Besides, Margaery is expecting a babe. She needed him there too.”

There was a moment of silence between the two as Ned thought on Jon’s words. Jon saw him smile slightly, and while he wished nothing more than to give his father a moment of piece he had to push forwards with his question. “But you still haven’t answered me father, what will become of Arya when you leave? Will she just miraculously appear beside you on the Kingsroad to Winterfell? Will she remain lost in Kingslanding?”

“I don’t know!” His father stood suddenly, voice raised. Ned had never shouted at Jon before, nor any of his other children. “I don’t know.” He lowered his voice this time, and Jon could see he felt shame for his outburst. “I’m as in the dark as you are, Jon. As soon as I know where she is I will bring her back myself but until then there is nothing we can do.”

“And what about Daenerys?” Jon heard his fathers words, but he was still stunned from his outburst so he stood straight and still, voice flat and quiet as he balled his fists. “Everyone says that her and her brother are to be burned alongside Jamie and Cersei. What are you going to do about that?”

Ned fixed his eyes on the table, refusing to look up at Jon. “Nothing,” he whispered. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“She’s your ward.” Jon curled his hands even tighter.

“Aye, she is. And in keeping her at Winterfell I betrayed Robert. He hates her family more than you could understand.”

“Her family is all dead!” Jon finally snapped. “She wasn’t even alive when the rebellion happened! How could she possibly hold any blame for her fathers actions?”

“She doesn’t!” Ned stood again and finally looked at Jon. “But that doesn’t matter to Robert. Her life is proof of his failure to eradicate her House, and he cannot have that.”

“It’s not fair.” Jon’s voice broke and he felt his jaw begin to tremble.

“I know, but if I stick my neck out for her again it will be you or Sansa or Arya that pays the price. Mark my words. Robert may not have killed Rhaegar’s children but he was certainly pleased when they were dead. I was here during the sac, Jon. I saw Aegon and Rhaenys bodies. Rhaenys was two and they stabbed her half a hundred times, if they would do that to her what would they do to Sansa, she’s ten years older than Rhaenys was.” Ned reached out a hand but Jon stepped backwards.

Jon feared If he opened his mouth to reply he would not be able to control what came out. So he said nothing, only nodded in understanding. He left his father and returned to his own room, seeking some isolation.

He understood why his father wouldn’t act; he was fond of Daenerys, but she was not his family. And if he chose to protect her now he could be endangering his own children. But it was different for Jon. For the past four years Daenerys had been his closest friend, and in many ways she was far more like family to Jon than Sansa had ever been. He thought of all the times they had eaten together at feasts, or sneaked away from everyone to practice archery or sword fighting in the Godswood. Even if she hadn’t meant so much to Jon, what was going to happen to her was still wrong, she was an innocent girl about to be burnt at the stake alongside three other people and, according to the rumours Jon had heard, all the remaining relics of her once great house. 

The next three days leading up to the execution went so quickly Jon felt as if time itself had turned its back on him and was being cruelly unfair in how it spread itself now. He had tried to go see Daenerys half a dozen times but each time he was turned away by the guards, “no more visitors” they would say, and Jon would leave.

He woke on the morning of the execution feeling strangely hopeful then he remembered what day it was, and his hope turned to despair. He’d felt so anxious then he’d thrown up in the privy and then had almost done the same again when he thought of having to eat anything.

As Lord Stark was still the Kings Hand, and Jon and Sansa were his children, they were given a place of honour from which to brow the execution. King Robert had decreed that everyone in the Red Keep must come watch unless they were so ill that they were physically unable to do so. Many people from the city had some to watch as well, but they were all forced to stand outside the Dragonpit and peer over the Lords and Ladies seated inside.

The pyre was in the centre of the great pit. It was hug. A great wooded platform with four tall stakes sticking up, they were each of them only about a foot from the other ones. Placed in front of each stake was a banner, two displaying the lion of Lannister, the other two showed the three headed Dragon of house Targaryen. Jon noticed also some tapestries and paintings had been thrown into the heap. He was too far away to see what was on them, but he could guess they were from the Targaryen era.

Two men came forward as the last few spectators entered the pit. The two men carried a great wooden chest between them. They stopped in front of the pyre, setting down the chest and opening the lid. The pit went silent all of a sudden, as the men took something out of the box. Jon’s place of honour was close to the pyre, so he saw that each man carried what appeared to be a large stone, the first two were bright and jewel coloured, green and white gold. The third was black as night.

“What are those?” Sansa whispered.

“Dragons eggs,” Jon did not know where the answer had come from, he hadn’t even known what they were until the answer came out of his mouth.

The next people to be brought into the pit were the prisoners. They were all chained at wrist and ankle, walking in a line with Cersei at the front followed by the man Jon assumed must be Viserys. Then came the Kingslayer and Daenerys at the back. Jon looked behind him to where Robert was sat. For the first time since Jon had met the man, the King looked sober, though Jon supposed this wasn’t an event the King would want to forget.

When Viserys saw the pyre he faltered, stopping in his tracks and turning to the guard beside him, “please, please no!” He begged. “I’ll do anything just not this, please! Please!” Jon heard people around him muttering and laughing, _the beggar king_ he heard one voice say. Soon Viserys’ voice changed and he grew angry. “You cannot burn me! I am the blood of the dragon! I am the dragon!”

Jon saw the way Daenerys looked at her brother, there was so much pity in her eyes. He wondered if Viserys had been like this while Dany had lived with him, he expected the answer was yes. Finally one of the guardsmen put a fist in Viserys stomach, winding him, so he could not plead anymore. The fear was still plain on his face however. Jon looked to the Lannister’s, Jaime and Cersei both wore the same look of anger and destain, though Jon could tell they were just as afraid as Viserys was beneath their rage. Lastly he looked at Daenerys, her face was calm. It took him entirely by surprise, her face was the picture of bliss but for a single tear he could see sliding down her cheek, but somehow he knew she was not crying for herself.

Robert stood up and looked down on the prisoners. “Every man and woman here knows your crimes, and such is their severity you have been sentenced to death without trial. This is the Kings command, nothing may overrule this order! Today all four of you shall burn for your sins!”

“Your Grace!” All eyes turned now from the king to the girl who spoke, standing on the floor far beneath Robert, chained at wrist and ankle. “May I ask, what is _my_ sin? What great crime have _I_ committed?”

Her voice was louder than Jon ever would have expected, it carried all across the pit, Jon could tell from the murmurs he now heard coming from the watchers.

“Your crime!” Robert laughed. “Your crime is being born of rotten seed! Your crime is being the daughter of a mad man and the sister of a murderer and traitor! Your crime is speaking out against the word of the rightful king!”

The crowd was stunned into silence by the ferocity of Roberts voice. Daenerys did not reply, she simply smiled sadly at Robert and nodded her understanding. This seemed to infuriate him even more. “What is everyone waiting for? Tie them to their posts!”

The four prisoners were taken to the pyre and each tied to a stake. Daenerys was tied to one with a dragon banner in front, Viserys was to her right and Jaime to her left. Jon saw her reach out a hand to her brother when the guards stepped away, he could see she was saying something but he was too far away to hear.

Once all four prisoners were tied to their posts, the king stood from his seat and made his way down towards the pyre. “What is he doing?” Sansa asked quietly to her father.

“The man who passes the sentence..” Lord Eddard replied sadly.

“…should swing the sword,” Jon knew what his father was going to say, and spared him the trouble.

Robert went to Viserys first, “any last words?” He asked.

“My house may end here,” he shrieked. “But your only children are bastards and your Queen is a whore! You’re reign is cursed and so are you!”

Robert did not reply to that, only moved around to where Cersei was, “any last words?” He asked again.

“I always knew you were a fool Robert,” she replied cooly. “But this is your biggest folly yet. House Lannister is large, and Lord Tywin never forgets a slight.”

When Robert asked Jaime the question, his response was much the same, “this is a farce. I am son to one of the greatest Lords to ever live, Cersei is Queen, we deserve a better death than burning. My father will have war.”

This time, Robert responded, “I don’t give a fuck about what Tywin thinks. And I doubt he’ll care all too much about the two of you now, incest and adultery are two stains hard removed. I fear he’ll be too busy for war.” Now, finally, he stood before Daenerys and asked her the question, “and you, have you any last words?”

Daenerys said nothing, she did not even move, she just fixed her violet eyes on the usurper, her gaze cold and unyielding. After a few moments Robert gave in and looked away. He turned to a guardsman and nodded.

Jon took the time now, while the guards struggled to light a torch, to look at the prisoners, to _really _look. Daenerys and Cersei both wore long, red gowns free and had their hair unbound. Viserys wore a black tunic over black breeches, and Jaime wore the same but in a golden colour. Jon realised that what they were wearing was meant to represent their house sigil, to make the execution an even greater insult. He noticed then that all four prisoners were barefoot, and that they must have been made to walk the whole way from the Red Keep to the Dragonpit without any protection for their feet against the rough ground. _And I thought their deaths were cruel enough. _

He looked to Daenerys again, to see how well she was faring. She saw him and smiled. Jon could not help but smile back, but as he did so he felt a lump appear in his throat and his eyes began to sting. He looked down before he cried and embarrassed himself. He shut his eyes tight, and then almost jumped when he felt something on his hand. He opened his eyes and saw that Sansa had taken his hand in hers, she gave him a sad smile and squeezed his hand. For the first time, probably ever, his little sister was showing him true kindness, and he knew she meant it. It gave him strength enough to look back at the pyre.

The torch had finally been lit, and it was in Roberts hand. The King walked in a circle around the pyre, tapping the torch at certain points, and where the torch touched flames began to grow. Once all the points had been lit he threw the torch into the middle of the pyre and turned to return to his seat. Within minutes, the flames reached the Kingslayers feet. Ser Jaime did not scream though, the struggle and the pain in his face was clear for all to see, but he did not make a sound. Viserys was not so strong. As the flames began to lick his ankles he started shouting again, at first it was the same threats and pleads as before, and this time Jon heard laughing from the crowd in response. As more time passed Viserys’ begging stopped and turned to screams, screams which were soon joined by the high, shrill voice of Queen Cersei crying out in pain.

The fire burned for five hours. The screams had lasted for almost three. Sansa had fainted not long after they began, and Jon could not fault her for that. Most like she had been lucky enough to miss the worst bits, chiefly the smell. After an hour or so the smell of burning flesh had filled the pit and several people had been sick from the stench of it. Jon had almost been one of them.

“She didn’t scream,” he said quietly, to no one in particular. “The others were loud, but not so loud as I couldn’t tell her voice wasn’t there.”

“I know,” his father replied, taking Jon by surprise. “She was brave, she was very _very brave._”

“No,” Jon knew his father was trying to comfort him but it was wrong. “No, even the Kingslayer screamed. No one could die in that way and not cry out.”

Lord Stark did not answer him, but Jon could see he was troubled.

When the remains of the pyre was cool enough to approach Robert sent four men forward to collect the remains of the four prisoners. Three of the men returned to the king a few minutes later, each carrying a box full of charred and disintegrating bones and ash. The fourth man was knelt beside what had been Daenerys pyre, hands frantically digging through the ash and charcoal.

“Why is he taking so long,” Jon heard Robert complain from behind him. Then he shouted, “put her bones in the box and bring them to me! It’s hardly a difficult task what is taking you so long?”

Jon felt his anger rising, but his father gave him a warning look, so he but his lip and balled his fists.

The guardsman looked up at Robert in a slightly dazed way, “the bones, your grace,” he said, “there aren’t any.”

“What do you mean?” Robert stood, abruptly.

“No bones, your grace.” The man repeated. “They must ha-” whatever the man was about to say next was disrupted by a sharp shriek as he tried to stand but seemed to sink into the earth beneath him.

The pit was much emptier than it had been at the start, many people had left when dark fell and then more when the flames stopped. But the people remaining now all gasped and began to speak as the guard flung out his arms and pulled himself back into the ash pile.

“What in Seven Hells is going on?” The King roared, silencing most of the crowd once more.

The three other guards put their boxes down and returned to aid the colleague. Two helped haul him to his feet, the other looked at where he had fallen. “There’s a hole here!” He yelled. “It’s deep, I can’t see how far down it goes, but there’s a rope ladder on the wall!”

“Go!” Robert yelled, starting forwards down to the remains of the pyre. “Go down it now! As many men as can get down!”

Everyone watching now got to their feet, some fled to tell the news, others ran forward to help. Jon followed his father who was rushing to the King, he felt hope growing inside him. The guards who had been collecting the bones were all already down the hole, and to Jon’s surprise old Ser Barristan Selmy was following them down.

“Father,” Jon called, Lord Stark turned to him, face pale. “Could-”

“Not another word, Jon,” he knew his father was not willing to debate this.

Suddenly the King dropped to his knees and began scrabbling through the ashes. “Where are they?” He yelled. Then he stood and grabbed Lord Eddard by the collar. “They were Stone! They could not burn! where have they gone? _Where are the Dragons Eggs?_”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh, the execution finally happened, or did it? I’ll update again soon and you’ll find out. I know this is kinda short and doesn’t have as much dialogue as last time, but I didn’t want to draw away from the burning too much.  
Next time we’ll be visiting a character we haven’t seen for a while, and you’ll learn what Dany’s plan was.


	19. War Was Easier Than Daughters

** The street of steel, Kingslanding  **

“Want to fight?”

“No”

“Why?”

“I’m busy”

Arya huffed in disappointment, “when did you become so boring?”

“Since Master Mott threatened you beat me bloody if I ever hit you again.” Gendry answered, irritated.

“Well then I won’t let you hit me.” Gendry only scowled at her for that. “Please, there’s no one else to practice with.”

“There’s plenty of orphan children running around who’d gladly hit you with a stick if you asked.”

“They’re not as good as you though, so I wouldn’t learn anything.” Arya jumped up to sit on one of the tables.

Arya Stark has been staying with Tobho Mott and his apprentice since her father and the queen had been arrested. The goldcloaks had come for her when she was at her dancing lesson, when they’d tried to grab her Syrio told her to run and fought them so she would have a head start. She’d escaped into the tunnels with the dragon skulls once she’d found needle and had planned on staying hidden there for as long as she could, but her plan went wrong almost from the start.

She’d been exhausted after her escape, so she slept, and when she woke there was a man standing over her. _Swift as a deer, _she thought as she reached for Needle and pointed it at the mans throat.

“Who are you?” She asked, “what do you want?”

“I could ask the same thing of you, boy.” The man said, and Arya realised she knew his voice.

“I’m not a boy!” She said in a moment of stupidity brought on by her half sleeping mind. “I know you, you’re the wizard!”

The man chuckled, “I am many things but a wizard is not one of those.”

“No I heard you,” she insisted. “I heard you with the other man, he said you were a wizard and, and the wolf and the lion would soon be at each other’s throats.”

In the pale light of the mans torch she saw his smile falter, “where did you hear that.”

“Here,” she told him. “A few weeks past, I was lost.” To her dismay, Arya found her eyes were filling with tears.

“Who are you, if not a boy, what is a little girl such as yourself doing in the secret passages of the Red Keep?” The mans voice was hard now.

“I’m hiding.” She whispered.

“From who?” Arya did not answer him. “Child, you must..” he trailed off and Arya knew he must have worked out who she was. “You’re Lord Starks daughter, aren’t you.”

Arya said nothing, only tightened her grip on Needle and shifted herself into a better position for attack.

“They Have the older one, Sansa, so you must be the younger,” he hesitated, “Arya, yes?”

“You know my name, what is yours?” Arya asked again reluctantly.

“I am Varys.” Arya remembered now, _Varys, of course, the spider was the master of whispers of course he knew the secrets of the Keep. _

“Are you going to take me to the King?” She asked quietly.

“No, child, I don’t think I am.” His voice was softer now, and he put two fingers on her blade and lowered it from his neck. “It would not do for Robert to have more leverage over the North than he does already. I will take you somewhere safe.”

Arya wasn’t entirely sure if she should trust this man, but she had no other choice, she would be lost and homeless without him. “Thank you.”

Aryas relief has been immense when the safe place he had brought her to was Tobho Mott’s forge. She remembered the place from her visit with her father, and the people there had seemed honest enough to her.

It had been close to three months before they heard anything more of her fathers fate. When news arrived through one of the spiders little birds, that Aryas brother Jon was in the capital she had insisted on seeing him immediately, but Gendry had talked her down.

“If you go now you won’t be able to leave, you’ll just be another hostage.” He’d told her, and rightly so. “You’re safer here, and you’ll do your family no favours by putting yourself in harms way.”

The other part of the news had been truly shocking, that her friend Larra was here too, only she wasn’t Larra anymore but Daenerys Targaryen.

When the day of the execution arrived, Tobho had told her she couldn’t go incase she was recognised, though Arya knew part of the reason was that he didn’t trust her not to do something stupid, and another part was he didn’t want her to watch something so violent. _I’ve seen death before, _she thought, _I’ve killed before… _The thought if the stable boy still gave her nightmares, she had told no one what happened, not even Gendry.

Arya picked up a knife from the table she was sat on. “Did you make this one?” She asked Gendry.

“Probably, that is _my _desk you’re sitting on.”

“Could you show me how to make one?”

He scoffed. “You? I doubt you could even lift a smiths hammer. Look at you, your arms are even skinnier than your legs!”

“I could do lift the hammer!” She objected.

“Be my guest.” He stood back and gestures to the hammer on the table.

She gave him a look and placed both hands around it. The thing was heavier than she expected, but she lifted it all the safe and refused to let the strain of it show on her face. After a few seconds of waving it before Gendry’s smug face she put it down and let out a sigh.

“See, I lifted it.”

“Well done, well make an armourer of you yet.” He laughed, turning from her to resume his work.

“Do you think it’s true?” The question had been on her mind for days, “what they’re all saying? About the comet?”

“I don’t know. No one does.”

“But what do you _think?”_

“I think all anyone knows for certain is the girl _allegedly _managed to somehow slip her bonds and escape whilst three grown adults burned at the stake beside her. I know that rumours say the king placed three stone dragon eggs on the fire as a mockery of her house. I know when the fire burned down to embers there were only three sets of bones where there should have been four, and the three eggs were gone. Oh, and there was a secret trap door beneath the pyre but of all the men who’ve searched the tunnel beneath, none have found any trace of the girl or the eggs.”

“That’s still not an answer.” Arya complained.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, do you really expect me to believe that she escaped the pyre and is now hiding in the tunnels beneath the Keep with three eggs that could now be three dragons all because the people think that the_ comet _is an omen of dragons.”

“You haven’t seen the tunnels, her ancestors built them so it would make sense if she knew them better than her hunters. The dragons I don’t believe, comet or no comet, stone eggs don’t hatch.”

Gendry sighed and turned his face down. “Look, Arya, I know she’s your friend, but she did lie to you about who she was. Whether she survived or not, what could you do to help her? And I would like to point out again that it’s very likely that she did die in the fire, but her remains were just burned away as well.”

Arya did not like his answer, she realised as she jumped down from the table and left Gendry to his work. When she looked outside, the city was red with the light of the setting sun, and the comet above them blazed even brighter.

The truth had stung her when she first heard it, _Larra _had been her best friend at Winterfell for as long as Arya could remember. So when the news came that the girl she thought to be an ex- Lysene slave, was I actually an exiled Targaryen princess in disguise Arya felt as if she were choking. But then she remembered the time it had snowed in the Godswood, how Larra’s hair and begun to turn white as the snow melted into it. They had told Arya then that she dyed her hair to hide what she considered a disfigurement, a blotch on her appearance that made her look old. Now Arya could see the truth, it had been Daenerys’ disguise, her protection against King Robert.

Arya wanted to be angry at that, wanted to hate her for her deception as well as all her family had done to Aryas. But she could not. And the thought of La- _no, _Daenerys, being gone forever made her more upset than she cared to admit.

The sun was lower in the sky now, and it’s light had changed from red and gold to pink and purple. Arya wasn’t strictly allowed into the city, Varys had warned her to stay indoors when he’d taken her there, and Tobho and Gendry both warned her of the perils of Kingslanding whenever she brought up the idea of leaving the shop. Tonight however, she ignored their warnings, donned her cloak and sword belt and snuck out the back of the shop and onto the street.

The street of steel was one of the nicer areas in Kingslanding. The roads were still mostly in tact, and had less shit on it than any other place in the city did. Finding where to walk was hard in Kingslanding. She feared walking in the middle of the street incase she was noticed, but if she walked too close to the buildings she was like to be snatched by someone lurking in an alleyway or doorframe. Arya stayed a foot or so from the buildings when she could, but her main worry was being recognised so she stayed out of plain sight at all times.

When she reached the top of the hill she looked out to the west. The sun was barely visible now, only a faint slither atop the sunset sea. She wondered what was behind that sea, and where the sun went once it had vanished from the sky. Everyone said that Westeros was as far west as west goes, but Mayhaps they were wrong. Mayhap there were places beyond that horizon that simply had not been discovered yet. Arya turned her head away, the thoughts were too big for her that night, and her head was already full to bursting with questions and thoughts that were much too big.

Arya decided she had had her fill of fresh air and turned to make her way back to the shop, but her path was blocked by a large man in the brown robes of a begging brother.

“What would a you lady like yourself be doing out in the city at night, alone?” He asked.

“I- I,” Arya stammered, then she looked up into the mans face and sighed with relief. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Yes,” answered Varys. “I told you to remain inside.”

“I got bored.”

“Don’t be foolish, child,” he snapped. “It is unbecoming of you, and I had just been beginning to think you might be the cleverer wolf.”

Arya has nothing to say to that. “Sorry.” She muttered.

“Sorry matters not,” Varys took her by the wrist and began to lead her somewhere, though it was not in the direction of her current home.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked, suddenly scared.

“You’ll see soon enough. Plans have had to change, my dear. Much to my surprise, King Robert is going to keep his word,” Varys slowed and looked down at her. “Your father and sister will be returning to Winterfell on the morrow.”

“Tomorrow?” She asked, “for true?”

“It was no easy feat I’ll tell you that,” Varys’ voice was calm, he was barely out of breath despite the pace they were walking. “Robert wanted to keep your father here, but fear not, I reminded him that the Starks could not possibly have had any involvement in what happened at the execution, and that the King himself had given his word to return Lord Eddard, you sister and yourself to Winterfell once the Targaryen girl and a son of house Stark had arrived. He could not very well go against his own word, not with the North and the Riverlands so closely related, and the Westerlands now alienated from him. So you’re going home, but first you must be found.”

_Home, _she thought. _Winterfell. Grey walls and hot springs, the heart tree and the godswood. I’ll see my friends again, Hodor and Old Nan and all the rest. And I’ll get to see my family, _that thought warmed her more than anything else. _I’ll see mother and father, Robb and Rickon and even Sansa, and maybe Bran will come visit. _Then she thought about what would be missing, _who _would be missing and what that would mean to her.

“What about Jon?” She asked. “Will he come home too?”

“No, he must stay here.” The spider sighed. “In truth I myself am not entirely sure why he asked for the boy. Now the excursion is done there would be no Targaryen left for your father to back even if he wished to, but I think it’s clear he would never openly oppose Robert in battle. All the same, I suppose he means to punish your father, and sending the bastard in place of a trueborn insulted him. The boy offered himself and now Robert means to keep him.”

_Will Winterfell truly be my home if Jon isn’t there? Jon Snow, _who had given her her first sword, who had her look, the Stark look. Her brother who used to muss up her hair and call her little sister, and always aided in her raids of the kitchens. What would her home be if he wasn’t there?

Robb was a man now, with a wife of his own, he would surely have little and less time for Arya. Rickon was a baby, he’d make no good company for her. And Sansa, well, Sansa would most like be angry with her for running away. _Surely Jon and Bran aren’t my only friends though, who else would I…_ then she remembered. Larra, _no, not Larra, _Daenerys. Arya would have to remember that now. But whether _Daenerys _had died in the fire or not, she was gone now.

“I don’t want to go if Jon’s staying here,” she decided. “I can stay with master Tobho. He won’t mind.”

“No, you must go,” the Spider grabbed her wrist as if he knew she would flee. “Truth be told I do not trust you, child. You’re loud and reckless, and I have no doubt you’ll try some way of helping your half brother escape if I leave you here.”

He had the right of it, Arya knew. “Why shouldn’t I?” She asked defiantly, “Jon’s done nothing wrong he doesn’t _deserve _to be a hostage.”

“No one gets what they deserve,” Varys was stronger than he looked and as he pulled her forwards she nearly fell. “But you’re getting close enough; a loving family and a home in a castle. There’s many who have much less. Be grateful.”

Arya found herself wondering where this man had grown up. Had he had a loving family? A castle to live in? Had he had a home at all? She wanted to ask him, but she daren’t.

“There are things in motion that you do not understand,” the bald man continued. “I’m sure this won’t be the last you’ll see of your brother, and Robert would never harm the boy. He may threaten too, but truth his he cannot, he’s not half as brave as he once was. Or as foolish, come to mention it.”

Limply, Arya followed him back to the Red Keep. Varys told her to wait outside as he entered her fathers solar. She heard them talking, her father was angry, she could tell. But when the spider brought her in Arya leapt into her fathers arms and suddenly all was right again.

“Forgive the deception my lord,” the bald man was saying. “I would have returned her to you earlier only I feared for the child. Robert was most wroth with you and I thought when Cersei was arrested your daughter might well have been used as a hostage by the king or even the Lannister’s. I trust you shall tell the King none of this, al he shall know is that your daughter was lost, and it took some time but alas, my little birds finally found her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! Sorry for the break I just got distracted.  
It’s a short one this time but I hope you guys enjoy it, next chapter will be either Jon or Daenerys, please feel free to tell me which you’d prefer.


	20. We Are All Prisoners Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I listened to what you guys said, and the general opinion was that you wanted a Daenerys chapter next. So naturally I decided to be mean and give you a Jon one instead. Enjoy!

Jon remembered when he had first seen Joffrey in Winterfell. Back then he had been everything a Prince should be, or he looked it at least, with his golden curls and arrogant face. Robb hadn’t liked him, and the two boys had almost come to blows one day in the training yard. Jon hadn’t like Joffrey much either, but now he could not help but feel pity for him. _He’s as much a prisoner here as I am, _Jon realised one day when the two boys were both brought before the king.

“You’re neither of you boys anymore,” the king said. “But you’re not men either. I’ll explain this to you once, though I expect you already know it; you’re here as my wards, but and I will keep you here as long as I wish to ensure that your families keep the Kings peace. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your grace,” Jon bowed his head.

“Yes,” muttered Joffrey.

“Yes, _your grace,_” the king corrected him. “I am your king and you will address me as such, bastard.”

Joffrey flinched at the name, “yes, _your grace._”

Joffrey’s siblings, Myrcella and Tommen, were both safe at Casterly Rock as their uncle had smuggled them away. But no one tried to keep Joffrey out of harm. And that was not a fact that had been lost on him. No longer was he the entitled and arrogant prince he had been, now he was more subdued, preferring to give sullen glances at all those who mocked him than fight back as he once might have. Jon still did not like the boy though, and it brought him some cruel joy that people in the Keep treated him, the bastard of Winterfell, with more respect than they did the former crown prince.

Jon had been surprised at just how kindly people treated him. It was in no way the same as a proper high born would have been, but it was far more than any other bastard could hope to receive. It did not take him long to find out why.

As they ate one night, the young lordling seated beside Jon, some red haired boy from the Reach, had turned to Jon and introduced himself.

“Im Horas, of house Redwyn,” he said, smiling. “You’re Jon Snow, aren’t you?”

“Aye,” Jon said, warily.

“I heard King Robert asked for one of the Stark boys to come here and be his hostage, and you volunteered.”

“The king wanted one of Lord Eddard’s sons,” Jon smirked despite himself. “But he never said the son had to be a Stark.”

“That was brave,” Jon couldn’t tell if the boy was mocking him. “Weren’t you worried what the king might do? That he’d be angry that a bastard had come in a trueborn sons place?”

“Not really,” Jon shrugged, trying not to let the other boys words hurt him. “I knew it would offend him some, but I hadn’t done anything he himself did not command.” _And I love my brothers too much to see any of them taken as a hostage. _

Horas grinned. “Are you free to wander the Keep as you please?”

“Mostly,” Jon nodded, “but not without a guard.”

“You should come spar with my brother and I tomorrow,” Horas said, to Jon’s surprise. The lordling then gestured to a boy on the opposite side of the table who was his mirror image. “Hobber and I will be in the lower bailey an hour after breakfast. There’s often others there too, squires and the like. What do you say?”

Jon wasn’t sure what to say, was this some trick? To what ends? He had given the boy no cause to dislike him. “Forgive my asking, my Lord,” he said, “but why would you want me there?”

“You seem brave,” Horas answered, “and you grew up in Winterfell so I assume you can fight well enough,” _more than well enough, _Jon thought. “Besides, we are kin of some sort, I suppose.”

“How so?”

“My cousin Margaery is married to your half brother Robb,” Horas looked at him incredulously, and Jon felt rather embarrassed for not having known this boy was Margaery’s cousin.

“Of course,” he nodded, hoping the other boy wouldn’t be offended. “I’d be more than happy to train with you, thank you. My Lord.”

The Redwyne twins weren’t as good at sword fighting as Jon was, but they had skill enough to make sparring with them worth while. And they weren’t bad company, for the most part. Some of the other lordlings and knights and squires who trained beside them would give Jon queer looks, though he supposed he must look out of place amongst them.

Jon spent three days with Horas and Hobber, sparring with them, eating with them, hearing tales of the Arbor and why _Arbor gold _is for superior to _Dornish red. _He had gotten to know some of the other squires and lordlings, among them was Horas’ cousin Ser Loras Tyrell, whom Jon remembered from Robb’s wedding.

On the fourth day however, Hobber finally lost patience and asked the question he had so clearly been dying to ask.

“Jon,” he asked as they hung up their swords. “You traveled with the Targaryen girl as she rode to Kingslanding, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Jon answered, reluctantly. _If he knows the answer, why ask the question?_

“And is it true she was living in Winterfell before Robert found her?”

_Robert didn’t find anyone, it was Cersei who learned of her identity, _Jon thought_. _“Aye,” he said instead, suspicion growing.

“Did you know her?” Hobber’s curiosity overtook him. “Did you know _who _she was? What was she like? Was she mad?”

“No!” Jon had to stop himself from yelling. “I mean- yes, I knew her,” he was reluctant to admit that he’d known who she was. “But she wasn’t mad, she was sweet and funny and kind. She was Lady Stark’s maid first, then she was Lady Margaery’s. No one knew who she really was, Lord Eddard found her in Lys and told us all her name was Larra.”

Hobber clearly didn’t recognise Jon’s discomfort, for now he lowered his tone and continued. “What do you think happened? With the fire, I mean.”

“I- I think… I saw the execution myself,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “The flames burned for hours, and they were so hot I could feel them from where I sat. The other three were older than she was, taller, bigger. Their bones were crumbling as people tried to collect them. There’s every chance the fire burned her to ashes, the eggs too, and that’s why there’s no remains.” Jon had had enough of their conversation. “Excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”

He did not see the twins again that week. Joffrey, on the other hand, he saw almost everyday. As wards of the crown both their chambers were in Maegor’s holdfast, so they broke their fast together every morning, and supped together most nights, along with some retainers and guards. None of this made Jon any more fond of the boy however.

Once, Joffrey had complained that he should not have to spend so much time in the company of a bastard. So Jon reminded Joffrey that he too was a bastard.

“Some would even argue that your birth is even lower than mine own, give that your parents were brother and sister. And incest is a crime by the laws of Gods and men.”

Joffrey bristled at that. “At least I know who my mother is,” He spat back. “You do not, but it doesn’t matter, most like she was some whore or washer woman,” a cruel smile crept onto Joffrey’s face. “Or maybe she was a noble, maybe it was the Lady Ashara, as people say. Would be worse for you? To know your mother threw herself into the sea because your oh-so-honourable father stole you from her?”

That was when Jon lost it. He vaulted across the table and nocked the former prince onto the ground and punching him. It took three grown men to pull the boys apart, and when they were brought before the king.

“I don’t see why this is any concern of mine,” Robert complained.

“They’re your wards,” his brother reminded him. Since Lord Starks dismissal, the king had made his brother Renly his hand. “They’re under your care, so their behaviour reflects back on you.”

“I’m in no mood to lecture them,” the king snapped. “If you care so bloody much then why don’t you see to it they learn the error of their ways, or whatever it is you want me to tell them.”

With that the King left, so the two boys looked to Lord Renly instead.

“Forgive my brother,” he sighed. “He’s been rather busy silencing all the rumours about the Targaryen girl. The people do love a miracle, and will always chose to believe _that _option over the simple truth. But that’s not why you’re here.”

“Why are we here?” Joffrey asked, sulkily. “Men fight, it’s nothing of any concern. Not to you at least.”

“But it is my concern,” Renly have him a contemptuous look. “You were behaving like children, and when you do that you shame both your houses and the crown. So keep your fights and quarrels for the training yard, not the diner table. You may go now, Joffrey. Jon, you stay a moment.”

Jon took the seal that was offered to him, and eyed the new Hand with suspicion. Renly poured himself a glass of wine and offered one to Jon. When the boy declined he shrugged and sat down opposite him.

“Had you ever been to Kingslanding before you were called here?” Renly asked, suddenly.

“No, my Lord.”

“Had you ever been to the south before that?”

“No,” then he thought for a moment. “Not that I can remember, but I was born somewhere in the South. I think.”

“So other than that, you spent your whole life in Winterfell?”

“Not my whole life,” Jon said, indignantly. “We’d go hunting, and I’d visit Castle Cerwyn and some other places with father and Robb. Why do you ask?”

“Because Kingslanding is not like any other place you’ve ever been,” Renly sighed. “I’m trying to help you, Jon. In this Castle everyone is a spy for someone, even the walls have ears, so you must be careful who you trust. Have caution what you say and who you say it to. But you must speak to someone, you can’t live here without any friends.”

Jon laughed, “and who am I supposed to be friends with? You? _Joffrey?_”

“No, not Joffrey. That boy is all the awful parts of both his parents and worse. But for a little while you seemed to get along well with the Redwyne twins, and Ser Loras,” Jon furrowed his brow and would have asked how he knew that, _everyones a spy for someone,_ he remembered.

“What of it?”

“What made you shun their company?”

“You don’t know?” Jon challenged. “I thought the walls had ears?”

“They do, but not my ears I’m afraid. And Varys didn’t feel the need to share that piece of information with me,” the master of whispers was not the sort of man Jon wanted to know his secrets, though he supposed he had little way of keeping them. _At least he did not tell what I said about Dany… _

“There wasn’t much of a reason,” Jon shrugged. “I just find myself feeling out of place amongst high borns. Southron ones especially.”

“You shouldn’t,” Renly smiled, presumably trying to be reassuring, but nothing about Kingslanding made Jon feel that way. “You have more in common with those boys than you think?”

“Such as what?”

“You’re all here against your will,” Jon gave him a confused look, and Renly laughed coldly. “Oh yes, don’t think that just because Loras and Horas and Hobber aren’t _wards of the crown _that they aren’t hostages, their just a subtler sort than you. They had the misfortune of being in the capital when your father exposed the Queen, and now none of them are exactly free to leave.

“Please understand that the Stormlands have few friends these days. If the North should rebel, then the Riverlands and the Vale would side with them, as Lady Lysa and Lord Edmure are your fathers siblings by marriage. And now, thanks to your brother and Margaery Tyrell, the Reach would most like side with you as well. The Westerlands would side against Robert rather than with the North, but that would still place them on the opposing side. That only leaves Dorne, and they have little love for my brother. I have no doubt the Martell will try for independence at the first sign of rebellion.

“My brother has no hopes of quelling a rebellion now, but he can hold a knife at the throat of any dissenters son. Joffrey is Roberts shield against Tywin’s wrath. If the North or any related kingdoms show signs of dissent, he hold both Lord Eddara natural born son and his good daughters brother, who also happens to be the Lord of Highgarden’s son. The only ambiguous Kingdom left is Dorne, though I expect that shall soon be rectified.”

Jon nodded, and wondered how exactly the king planned on _“rectifying” _his relationship with the Dornish. “I understand.”

“Good,” Renly stood. “I’m glad we had this chance to speak, I hope you will think on what I have said, and that you will come to trust me in time.”

“I will,” Jon told him, though he wasn’t sure trust was a thing he could achieve with this man. He seemed honest enough, but this was a city full of liars and the youngest Baratheon brother did look so like the eldest, it was eerie.

The next day Jon woke early, and was able to dress and break his fast long before Joffrey made an appearance. He decided to go back to the lower bailey and see who was there, it was too early for the twins, he knew and was rather glad of it, but there were others. Across the yard he saw Ser Loras shooting arrows, and decided to heed Renly’s advice. _I should be kinder to him, my half brother is his good brother. We’re kin of sorts._

At first they practiced in silence, both playing at an unspoken competition of who’s shot was best, who was the most consistent, the most accurate, the fastest. Jon could not help but think about all the times he had practiced shooting arrows with Dany in the Godswood, _Loras isn’t bad, but even on his best day Dany could out shoot him with her eyes closed. _

Thinking of her distracted him, and his next arrow missed the target entirely. Loras choked back a laugh, but it wasn’t a cruel laugh, Jon thought.

“That’s poor luck, Snow,” he said. “You were doing so well, but I do believe this means I’ve won now.”

“We never set any rules for the game,” Jon pointed out. “Mayhaps I have won the most contest for the most arrows lost.”

“I’m afraid not, your arrow is not even lost,” the other boy walked behind the targets and searched the ground for a moment. “It is right here, see?”

“It seems we drew that round then.”

“That round, yes,” Loras nodded. “But _this _round I think I shall win.”

“That depends, what are the rules?”

“Whoever gets the most in the blue wins. Game ends when you’re out of arrows.”

“I’ll take that,” Jon said, and with no further warning, he notched, drew and loosed his arrow. It sailed through the air in a perfect line, and landed on the blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry, I’m already writing Dany’s chapter, it’ll be out in a day or two.


	21. For The First Time In Centuries

“This is the place my brother was born,” Dany announced. “It burned down in some accident, on the very day he came into the world. A lot of people died here that day too, I think. I can’t really remember, in truth. It was Arya who told me about the tragedy of Summerhall, and practically everything else that ever happened to my family.”

As always, her travel companions gave her no reply, only a few squeaks and smoky coughs, but she loved them so. _Mine, _she said to herself as she lifted the black one out of its box. She hated that she had to lock them away, they were dragons, they were not made for cages. But she could not let them fly free, not yet.

The eunuch Varys has told her to wait at Summerhall for further instruction, but she hated staying there, she felt exposed and vulnerable. In the woods at least she could hide away from travellers on the Kingsroad, but here they rode right past her. _If even one of them stops and decides to stay the night…_

It had been three days since they had arrived, and almost a fortnight since her _“execution”._ Escaping the flames had been the easy part, as it had taken minutes for her ropes had burnt enough for her to break them. She had to wait a while longer for the eggs to crack, but when they did she scooped them into her arms. And with the flames obscuring her from the view of the watchers, she crawled under the burning wood and down the tunnel that opened out into a dark cavern.

One of Varys spies has been there, a small girl with dark hair and a gap toothed grin. The poor child almost fainted when she saw the dragons, but she composed herself enough to thrust a dress, travelling cloak and boots towards Dany. Then she let the girl lead her out through a doorway that only revealed itself when a certain stone was pressed.

When they finally emerged from the labyrinth of tunnels they were beyond the gates of the city, at the edge of the Kingswood. Varys was there. The sight of Daenerys made his jaw drop.

“Come now my Lord,” she smiled. “Don’t look so surprised. Did you truly think the fire would be the end of me?”

He recovered quickly and asked, “did you bring the eggs? If you did not I fear I have no other way of procuring them for you.”

“No,” she smiled even wider. “I have something better than just stone eggs.”

She pushed back her cloak to reveal the two tiny dragons clinging to her waist, asleep. Once again, Varys was lost for words, but his eyes said _“there were _three_ eggs on that fire._” And so in response to that Dany threw her cloak over her other shoulder to show him the third dragon that was wrapped around her right arm.

“I will need somewhere to house them,” she gestured at the horse behind him. “They won’t like being put in a bag, and I cannot carry them and ride at the same time.”

“I-I can- I can bring a different saddle bag,” he stuttered. “One designed for carrying live and fragile goods.”

“That will do, but be quick,” she told him. “I am eager to leave this place.

The saddle bag he brought worked well enough at the time, three leathery boxes each big enough to fit all three of her dragons in at the time. But now her dragons were growing, and one could barely fit in a box at all. “I pray you keep growing this fast,” she told the one in her arms. “I pray you grow as big as old Balerion. And one day-”

A noise disturbed her, a faint rustling sound. She moved her hair out of the way and the dragon could climb onto her back, it’s wings wrapping protectively around her shoulders. When she felt his claws dig into her skin, and his tiny head rest upon the crook of her neck she let her hair fall down and cover him.

Dany felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and goosebumps prickled her skin. _There’s someone here… _She dashed forwards to where her bow lay, she had no where to put her quiver so she notched her arrow and waited until she heard something else. Her head whipped around and she drew the string back to her cheek. Behind her stood a tiny, wrinkled, hunchbacked old woman. Her skin was white as bone, and her eyes were blood red.

“Who are you?” Dany asked.

“Who am I?” The old woman repeated woefully. “That is no concern of yours, girl. Who are _you_? That is my question, and what are you doing here? I come to this place to weep and grieve alone, you should not be here.”

“I have as much right as any to be here,” Dany said, indignantly. “This castle belonged to _my _family before it burned down. And why should I tell you my name if you will not tell me yours?”

“Ah,” the old woman sighed and smiled at her warmly. “It is you. I have dreamed of you, child. May I see them?”

“See who?”

“You don’t fool me, child. You know what I wish to see.”

“Well I do not wish to show you them,” Dany’s arms tightened, still gripping her bow. “Don’t call me _child._”

“But you are a child, and I have nought else to call you since you will not tell me your name,” the old woman eyed her bow as if she were only now noticing it. “I’d thank you to lower that thing, I’ve lived a long life, but I still do not wish to see the grave any time soon.”

Slowly, Dany lowered bow. _She’s only one tiny woman, what harm can she do me? And she said she dreamed of me. _“I’ll show you them,” she agreed, “but only if you tell me what you dreamed of.”

“Alright,” the woman sat down cross legged and dany copied her. “I dreamed of a girl with moonshine in her hair, she stood inside a great fire but it did not burn her. And as the flames died down to embers, she emerged unharmed and she had wings spreading from her shoulders. Those wings grew, and grew and grew, until their shadow covered the entire continent.

“I dreamed other things too. I dreamed of vipers, hiding in the grass, in the cracks between bricks of tall towers and even in the trees. I saw an antlered man throw a stone at the face of a lion. Many dreams, many and more. But that is all I care to tell before you uphold your end of the deal.”

_She told me of her dreams, it is not to hard to show her a dragon. _“Your dreams,” Dany said, and she stood. “Are they often true?”

“More than often.”

Dany nodded. She reached behind her and let the black one climb back into her arms. It sang softly as Dany bent to show him to the pale woman. The dragon chirped at her and she sighed blissfully.

“They grow fast,” Dany told her. “I worry soon they shall be too big to hide.”

“You must not let the world see them,” the old woman warned. “They cannot fall into the wrong hands, else their power would be abused. You need only look around you to see what that power is.”

“What do you mean?”

“A dragons egg may hold some heat, some flame, some magic. Enough so that if they aren’t treated with care they will burn the hand that holds them. I know, I have seen it before. But a _real _dragon has tenfold that power, and a will of its own should its keeper not temper it. I have seen that too, too many times. Black Harren thought himself safe, but even in a castle far grander than this one ever was, he and all his sons were consumed by the flames. And now that castle is even more ruined than this one.”

“You saw _that?_” Dany asked. “With your own eyes and not in some dream. That would make you three hundred years old.”

The old woman chuckled. “Oh, sweet child I am far more ancient than that. Now, I must go. Thank you for letting me see them, but now I must do the thing I came here for. I must mourn in peace. Farewell, Dragon Mother.”

Dany watched her shuffle away into the darkness. _Dragon mother, _she thought. _I am their mother, and it is my duty to protect them. _

Dany spent two more nights at Summerhall, and she was ready to give up hope that anyone was coming. But on the morning of the sixth day she heard hoof beats approaching. She had chosen a room with both ceiling and windows, for it was raining hard and she did not wish to catch a cold, but she did not want to let anyone sneak up on her either. Upon hearing the rider she looked out and saw a a lone figure riding towards the castle. _It could just be some traveller seeking shelter in the ruin,_ she thought. Though she was proved wrong when they entered the castle.

“Hello?” A voice called, high and sweet, a woman’s voice. Her accent was unfamiliar to Dany, it was nothing like the accents of the free cities or the North. “Is anyone there?”

Dany thought of answering her, but she did not know who this woman was. She pulled her horse into a corner where it would be better hidden, and shushed her dragons so they would not give themselves away. Then she walked towards the sound of the strangers voice, her hood pulled tight around her head to hide her hair.

“Who are you?” She asked when the woman came into view. She was short, with damp blonde hair and blue eyes. “What is your purpose here?”

“I would ask the same of you,” the woman replied. She did not look to be much older than Dany was, but Dany was wary of her all the same, and reached inside her cloak for her dagger.

“I am waiting for someone, that I will tell you, but I would rather not give you my name.”

“That seems rather a coincidence,” the blonde girl laughed. “For I am here to collect someone. And I will give you my name. I am Tyene Sand, daughter of Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne. And you,” she smiled now, and not in a mocking way, “you are Daenerys Targaryen.”

“Yes,” Dany knew it hadn’t been a question, but she answered it anyway. _Your eyes, you fool, _she scolded herself, _of course it was your eyes, just as it was your eyes that exposed you to Cersei. _“Where are you going to take me?”

“To my family,” Tyene walked towards her and offered her a hand. Dany took it. “My father and my uncle are very much looking forward to meeting you.” She hesitated. “And I believe there’s someone else they’d like to meet?”

“This way.” She led the bastard girl to where her horse was. The white dragon was the only one that was still awake, so Dany brought them out of their box and showed Tyene.

“He is beautiful,” the Dornish girl sighed, her eyes wide with wonder. “Do they have a name?”

“Not yet,” Dany admitted. “The three dragons Aegon used to conquer Westeros were named for the gods of Old Valyria, but besides Balerion and Vhagar and Meraxes I do not know any of those gods’ names. And I don’t think it would quite fit to name a dragon after one of the Seven.”

“No, I suppose that would sound rather silly,” Tyene giggle lightly, “I cannot imagine calling such a fierce best “smith” or “crone”,” she eyed Dany’s horse, and the two over boxes attached to its back. “We should not linger here, come. I hope you are well rested, it will be a long ride to Sunspear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this Dany chapter! I really like the Dornish plot and the Sand Snakes in the books (less so in the show) so I’m really looking forward to including them some more in this story!  
I think the Ghost of Highheart is a super interesting character so I just had to include her at least once, feel free to guess at what her dreams mean.  
Any suggestions or comments are valid and appreciated but please be nice. Hope you all are staying safe too :)


	22. The Shadows Of Happy Memories

Winterfell had changed. Robb, mother, Rickon and Margaery had all come out to greet their party as they arrived at the gates, but even that reunion had been sour. Little Rickon had scowled at them as they dismounted, and rugged at his mothers leg.

“Where’s Jon?” He asked. Arya saw her father grimace at that, and she could not blame him. When her mother came and embraced her she almost wept right there in the courtyard, and Sansa did have some tears in her eyes as she hugged Robb.

Arya felt guilty. She had felt that way the entire ride from Kingslanding but it was even stronger now. _We traded Jon and Larra for me and Sansa and father. _On their travels she had repeatedly tried to remind herself that Larra was Daenerys now, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t think of her friend that way.

She had known Larra; the pretty, dark haired, purple eyed maid from Lys who had been her best friend since she was six years old. This silver haired Targaryen girl that everyone called Daenerys was a stranger to her.

The rest of the day passed in a daze for Arya, she vaguely remembered eating dinner and someone asking about the time she’d spent being lost in Kingslanding, and everyone congratulating Robb and Margaery and wishing a strong and healthy babe.

Arya wasn’t sure why today was so hard, they had been on the road for almost a month, all that time she had known what she would face back at Winterfell. Her home, but her two best friends would be gone. Jon, her half brother, who mussed up her hair and called her little sister and gave her her sword. She still had Robb and Rickon, but Robb had a wife now, and Rickon was a baby. And Larra, her best friend, the only girl in Winterfell who she had known true friendship with. _And she’s not just gone away, she’s dead. Father and Sansa saw it, she’s gone. _

Once Arya was safely alone in her chambers, she allowed herself to weep. She wept for her friends death, she wept for her brother’s absence and she wept for herself, because she had never felt so alone.

It came as a complete surprise to her then, when there was a knock at her door. “Yes?” She called.

“May I come in?” Sansa asked?

Arya nodded. The road back to Winterfell had proved better for her relationship with her sister than the road away from it had. Sansa had told her that she’d missed her, truly missed her. And to keep from cold, the two sisters had slept side by side most nights. Silently at first, but soon they would talk into the night, though Arya could never remember exactly what they spoke of. It was on one such night that they’d heard the wolves howling. Sansa said that one might be Nymeria, and then she’d cried for how much she missed Lady. Arya had tried to comfort her sister by making fun of Joffrey, and it seemed to work, but when she thought they were both asleep she heard Sansa was still crying.

“What do you want?” Arya asked her sister as she closed the door.

“I was lonely,” Sansa said. “I have not had a room to myself since Kingslanding. I didn’t like it. May I stay here with you? I’ll go if you want me to.”

“No, I’m lonely too,” Arya admitted. “Just don’t kick me.”

“I can’t promise that,” Sansa laughed a little. “You know I don’t know when I’m doing it.”

Arya was eleven, and her sister was thirteen. They knew that should make them too old to share beds, but they were both cold and lonely, and had come to enjoy each other’s company more now they weren’t so little. Arya was less insolent and stubborn, and Sansa less naïve and gossipy. They spoke about what Margaery’s babe might be named, and of Bran over on Dragonstone. Soon they were both fast asleep.

When dawn broke over the castle, Aryas eyes snapped wide open. She had gotten into the habit of riding with the son during their journey, and it seemed it was a habit she was going to keep. Sansa was still asleep, and she was taking up half the room on the bed, so Arya left her to sleep a little longer.

The only other person in the hall besides the servants was Margaery, much to Aryas surprise.

“Good morning,” her good sister smiled at her as Arya sat opposite her.

“I hadn’t thought to see anyone else here,” Arya told her. “It’s very early.”

“Too early,” Margaery agreed. “I wouldn’t normally be awake, but I woke in the night and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

Arya began to fill her plate then she noticed the older girl did not have one. “Have you eaten already?”

“No, I came here to eat but the sight of the food made me feel queasy. I only stayed so I could talk to anyone else who was awake,” Margaery smiled at Arya. She realised then that she had never truly taken the time to speak to her before. _Larra always spoke kindly of her. _Margaery continued, “Your lord father was here here not long ago, and little Rickon. He _always _wakes early, he told me, so he can have more time to run around and cause chaos, your father said.”

“Is Robb still asleep?” Arya laughed a little.

“Of course,” Margaery scoffed. “I’ve never known anyone to sleep as deeply as he, I tried to wake him but he would not stir no matter how loud a shouted or how hard I shook him. He told me once that some bees had made their nest in his rooms, and had somehow found their way into his bed when he slept. He woke up the next morning with no less than _four _bee stings, and he had slept through them all!” Arya laughed loudly now as she remembered that incident, they’d found four little bees crushed in his bed. “I think,” Margaery spoke on as Arya laughed, “that if my time comes while he is lays beside me, he could sleep though the babes birth and all the noise that will involve.”

“I think you might be right,” Arya agreed. “I remember when those bees stung him, Maester Luwin had been lost for words, one sting should have woken him, but to sleep though four was neigh on impossible. Robb claimed that he simply didn’t feel the pain, but he almost cried when Jon poked one of his stings.”

“He neglected to tell me that part,” Arya decided that she liked Margaery, she was in no way a replacement for Larra, but she was kind and funny, and Arya thought you was cleverer than most. She realised that her good sister likely felt some pity for her, and was most likely trying to cheer her, and it was working. “I see the rest of the castle is waking,” Margaery observes as the hall began to fill. “And that reminds me, I must go see maester Luwin. That you for your company, I hope we can speak again soon.”

Arya bid her farewell, finished her breakfast and went to find something to do. At the forge in Kingslanding she’d always find some way to help Tobho or Gendry with their craft, but now she was back home she found herself idle, especially as her lessons were suspended for that day. She entertained herself instead by playing with Rickon and Shaggydog.

This second day at home passed much like the first had, only it was quieter and seemed to last longer. That night, it was Arya who went to Sansa’s room, for her sisters bed was bigger than her own and she hoped it would stop Sansa from taking all the space. It didn’t.

The third day began as the second day had, at dawn. Only today Arya had to return to her lessons with the septa. The thought of it made her want to rage, but when she was sat listening to the septa, she found the familiarity comforting, even if she did feel the hole of where Larra used to be beside her.

Soon, Arya found a new routine. She still woke at dawn, and had lessons with the septa, and feel incredibly sad and isolated at times, but everyday she would try and find some time to practice her water dancing. Sometimes she went and practiced the steps along in the Godswood, sometimes Robb would spar with her, and to her surprise he did not even laugh at her Bravos style, well not much.

When he first found her with Needle in the Godswood, he’d asked her where she’d gotten the sword.

“Jon gave it me,” she admitted.

“That was nice of him,” Robb smiled sadly, “I miss him too, you know.”

“I know,” Arya nodded.

“May I see it?” Robb Asked.

“Father found a man in Kingslanding to teach me how to use it,” she explained as she handed him the hilt.

“You won’t improve much if you’re fighting imaginary foes,” Robb teased as he admired the blade then gave it back. “I have to help father with something soon, but I’m sure they won’t miss me for a little while. Now, show me your stance.”

Arya went into her water dancers pose and Robb laughed, “what’s that?” He asked her.

“A water dancers stance,” she explained. “Syrio was from Bravos, this is the way the Bravosi fight, or dance.”

“I’ll believe you,” Robb said, “now, try hit me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably won’t do another Arya chapter for a while, it’ll be Jon next time.  
Let me know what you thought :)


	23. Three hundred red scorpions

“How many bastards does it take to please a king?” It was a joke Jon had hear over a hundred times in the past few day. Every man who saw their current situation had near the exact same reaction. And they all thought themselves incredibly funny and original in making that joke or something along those lines. 

_“How many bastards does it take to piss a lake?” “How many to fix a wall?” “To saddle a horse?” “To fight a lion?” _

The answer was always the same. “Five, apparently,” followed by much obnoxious laughter by the two involved in the jape. Jon wasn’t sure how he felt, that he was one of those four bastards. Snow, Stone, Storm, Sand and Hill. That was what Robert had dubbed Joffrey. Once he had been Joffrey Baratheon heir to the Iron Throne, now he was Joffrey Hill, a bastard and an abomination in the eyes of gods and men. Less so in Jon’s eyes truth be told. He had no love for Joffrey that was true, and the boy did seem to be especially vile. But his siblings seemed decent enough, and Jon knew another whose parents had been siblings, and she was by far the kindest person he had ever met.

The Stone, Storm and Sand bastards were new editions. Mya Stone and Edric Storm were two of Roberts bastard children, the girl hailing from the Vale and the boy from the Stormlands. Edric seemed much like every other little highborn boy, despite his illegitimacy, as his mother had been a noble too, some Florent as Jon had heard it. Mya could make no such claims, as her mother had been low born. The difference in station of the two bastards was clear, and caused many, including Jon, to wonder why they had _both _been brought to Kingslanding.

Of the five bastards, the greatest mystery was the Sand. When Lady Nym of Dorne arrived in the stead of her father or uncle, Robert was even more wroth than he had been when Jon had arrived in place of Robb or Rickon. Though Nymeria Sand swore it was only a temporary arrangement. “My uncle the Prince is unable to travel and is needed in Dorne, so my father prince Oberyn has agreed to come in his stead. However his love Ellaria is quite ill at present, and my father does not wish to leave for Kingslanding until she is well again. My father did not wish to miss anything important so he has sent me here to be his eyes and ears and act in his interests.”

The people around the Red Keep would often refer to Nymeria as _the sand snake. _At first Jon had thought it an insult on the woman’s bastardy, but he soon learned it was not a nickname she disliked at all, quite the opposite in fact. And after seeing the Dornish woman sparing in the yard one day, he realised how valid an assessment it was. _She is definitely quick as a snake, _he thought as she took out a young knight, _and her father is called the red _Viper _of Dorne. _

Jon soon learned that Lady Nym’s mother had been a noble woman from Volantis, making Nymeria the most highborn of Prince Oberyn’s eight bastard daughters. So in total, three of the five bastards (Nymeria, Edric and Joffrey) were bastard born, with noble parents on both sides. One, Mya, was base born as her mother was lowborn. And then there was Jon. He had no clue whether his mother was a Lady like that Florent, or just some peasant like Mya’s mother. He did not know where she had come from or where she had gone after Jon’s birth. He did not even know if she was living or dead.

These were facts that Jon had always had to live with, but now, surrounded by others who bore his shame, the questions were much harder to bare. Edric has asked him about his mother once, as they sat together to eat.

“I don’t have a mother,” he told the younger boy.

“But everyone has a mother,” Edric had wrinkled up his brow in confusion. “You _must _have a mother!”

“Mayhaps, but I never met her, and my father never spoke of her,” Jon had explained.

Edric was twelve, which made him a year or so older than Arya, but Jon thought the boy acted far younger than his sister did. The Storm boy was the youngest of the five bastards, followed by Joffrey who was fourteen, then Jon who was approaching his sixteenth name day. The Stone and the Sand were the eldest, Mya being almost nineteen and Nymeria somewhere in her mid twenties Jon had judged, he’d thought it rude to ask how old she was exactly so he could only guess.

The three new bastards had all arrived at different times, meaning the castle had been bustling and working seemingly non stop for over a week. Edric has arrived first, then Mya then Nymeria. Jon was not especially fond of any of them. They were preferable to Joffrey, to be sure, but Edric was too young to be much good company, and the two girls he barely ever saw, and they would likely not have given him any thought.

Mostly, Jon spent his time with the squires and the _special guests _from the reach. He had grown closest to Loras Tyrell, who was a year or so his senior but reminded him a lot of Robb. Every morn they would train together with sword and lance and whatever else was available. With a sword, Jon was _nearly_ Loras’ equal, winning around half of their matches. But with a lance he was yet to win even one tilt against the older boy.

It was during one of their mornings training that Jon first learned of the feud between the Tyrell’s of Highgarden and the Martells of Dorne. The boys had seen her practice at throwing knives while they sparred, and Jon Snow couldn’t help but notice that every blade Nymeria Sand threw had hit its mark so far.

“She’s good at that,” Jon observed.

“Throwing knives are a cowards weapon,” Loras informed Jon, turning his nose up at the Sand snake. It was at that moment she drew her final blade, and flung it over arm at the target. It hit, but only an outer ring, far from all the previous ones which had been central and grouped together. The Tyrell boy scoffed, and said loudly, “see, she missed her mark that time. Not so great after all.”

Lady Nym looked at him with her eyebrows raised. “The day I make every shot is the day I cease to improve,” her dark eyes flicked briefly from Loras to Jon and back again. “My lords,” she drawled as she bowed her head in farewell and departed.

“What was that about?” Jon asked.

“What?” Loras blinked at him.

“You don’t even know the woman, you needn’t have been so rude to her.”

“I have every reason to be rude to her,” The Tyrell boy laughed dry. “She’s half Martell, and if that’s not enough, then remember that it was her father who crippled my brother.”

Jon had no response to that but to nod. _It was Joffrey’s father who nearly crippled my brother_. He had no love for Joffrey, and maybe that was, in part, the reason why. Though it really had more to do with Joffrey being an ass.

It was later that day that Robert had promised to make an announcement in the Throne room. As a ward of the Crown Jon was allowed to stand at the front of the hall, infront of everyone else and with a clear view of the Iron Throne.

“My lords,” Robert bellowed once everyone had gathered. “As you are all aware I have recently found myself unmarried and lacking a trueborn heir of my body, due to the treason of my late wife Cersei Lannister.” Jon saw Joffrey flinch at his mothers name. “Because of this, I have decided to name a new heir; my natural born daughter, Mya Stone. Whom I hereby legitimise, and name Mya Baratheon from this day onwards.” A stunned silence fell over the hall. _So that was Mya’s purpose. _“Furthermore,” Robert continued, “I am summoning Lord Tywin Lannister to Kingslanding to bend the knee and make amends for the crimes of his son and daughter, and also to discuss the succession on house Lannister. You are dismissed.”

_Why Mya? _Jon thought to himself as he left the Throne room, _Mya’s only half noble, and a girl. She has no experience in ruling and from what I gather she has no desire to rule either. Why chose her over Edric when he noble on both sides and has been raised as such. Edric is younger, to be sure, but he’s also a boy, which would make him far more popular with the Lords in power. Why even bring the boy here if not to make him heir? _None of it made any sense to Jon.

That night he went to the Godswood to pray, as he often did. There was no Weirwood in the Godswood of the Red Keep, only an old oak wrapped in smokeberry vines. He knelt before it and prayed, prayed for protection for himself and his brothers and sisters, for his father, even for his mother if she still lived.

When he had said his prayed, he decided to stay a while longer. It was peaceful in the godswood, quiet. And it reminded him of happier times spent in the Winterfell Godswood, practicing archery with Larra. His quiet was soon interrupted though, by the sounds of voices.

“Look around,” a female voice said. “Check there’s no one lurking.”

“There won’t be,” a male voice replied, “I told you, there never is.”

“Check it all the same.”

“And if I find someone?”

“Make sure they don’t tell anyone else we were here.”

Jon decided it would not be best to linger, he did not know what these two would be doing, and he decided he didn’t want to know. But when he tried to leave he saw they were blocking the exit, and he saw also a glint of steel in the mans hand. Jon reaches for a branch above his head and pulled himself up into the hearttree to be concealed by the leaves.

“See anyone?” The woman asked, she was stood directly beneath him now, and Jon recognised her immediately.

“No,” the boy replied as he too approached the tree. “I told you no one comes here.”

“It cost us nothing to be cautious,” Nymeria Sand told him.

Jon almost lost his grip when he saw who the man was. “I suppose,” Loras shrugged.

“You heard the Kings announcement?” The Dornish woman asked.

“Of course,” The reachman nodded. _He said he hated her, _Jon thought, _what is this? _“An interesting choice.”

“I thought he’d name the boy,” Lady Nym shrugged. “Here your lords only value the boys. If this was Dorne I would understand, Mya is older after all. But here a boy would always come first, especially if he’s of higher birth than the female option.”

“I thought so too at first, but I think that’s why he did it.”

“How so?”

“Well this is the option most likely to piss everyone off,” Loras explained. “Lord Tywin will be fuming that his heirs were murdered, and now Robert has named a baseborn girl from the Vale as his heir, when his previous heir was Tywin’s own grandson.”

“You think he’s doing it on purpose?” Nym asked. “He’s trying to cause chaos?”

“Maybe,” Loras shrugged, “maybe Mya’s just his favourite, maybe he’s just stupid. Who can say, probably a mix of the three.”

“Where will that leave us?”

“If there’s any chance of winning the Lannister’s loyalty we have to go for it. They had the most gold, one of the largest armies, and they have Tywin.”

“My father and uncle will never side with Tywin, nor will she,” Nym shook her head. “Not after Elia, Tywin would have to publicly apologise and he’d never do that.”

“Well they’ll have to start at least pretending they’re willing to align with him, we need him,” _we? _Thought Jon as he tried to stay still as stone while clinging to the branches of the tree.

“There’s no way the Lannister’s will fight on Roberts side, not now that the kings executed his children and summoned him here to answer for their crimes.”

“Mayhaps if they stayed neutral..” Loras pondered. “Having them with us would be best, but having them on no ones side would work as well I suppose.”

“And what of the other kingdoms?” Nymeria asked. “Robert will have the Stormlands and the Crownlands, Mayhaps the Vale through Mya and Jon Arryn but that’s no sure thing. Who will we have besides Dorne and the Reach?”

“The North will be on our side or they’ll stay neutral,” Loras stated. “They’ve fought alongside Robert before and Lord Stannis has one of Starks boys as ward. But now he holds Lord Eddard’s bastard hostage and Starks heir is wed to my sister, so they have at least some reason to align themselves with us.”

“If we have the North then we’ll have the Riverlands too, and the Vale potentially,” Nym smiled. “That just leaves the Iron Islands.”

“The Greyjoy’s are a wildcard,” Loras huffed. “The Redwyns have a fleet just as big as the Greyjoy’s, if not bigger. We don’t need the slimy whoresons to win, but we’d be at a big disadvantage if they went against us.”

“I don’t think they’ll do either.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean they won’t fight for us or for Robert, they won’t be neutral either. They’ll declare for independence the first chance they get,” Nymeria explained. “It’s what they do, isn’t it?”

“How do we stop that? Our naval forces are just about matched against Robert as it stands, Stannis has his fleet, and there’s the Royal fleet, but the Redwyns can match that. But if the Krakens start attacking us…”

“Then we must remind them how exactly House Greyjoy came into power on those shit stained rocks they call a Kingdom.” Loras gave her a puzzled look, lady Nym only grinned. “I assume you know the tale of house Hoare?”

“Of course.”

“Then we shall remind them of the perils of dancing with Dragons,” Nymeria chuckled. “The Martells know them better than most, as do the Tyrell’s I should think. But none know it quite so well as Harren Hoare.”

“You make a good point,” Loras smiled slyly, it was not a look Jon was used to seeing on his friends face, and he wasn’t entirely sure he liked it. “Does your family have them yet?”

“I don’t know,” Nym sighed. “They can’t send word by raven, it’s too risky. My sister Tyene went to find them, but we must needs wait a while for word to reach us. Have you had time to speak with the spider?”

“Yes,” Loras grimaced. “He may smell sickly sweet, but under it he’s as unpleasant a man I’ve ever met.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Presumably the same thing he told you,” Loras dodged the question. He looked at the Lady Nym with a queer expression. “Are you sure I can’t tell Jon?” He asked at last, and Jon almost fell from his branch he was so surprised to hear his own name said. “I trust him.”

“I don’t,” Nym said in a hard voice. “We have no idea who he works with if he’s even working with anyone. But I have heard Lord Renly has made an effort with the boy even if his brother hasn’t.”

“I know he’d be on our side,” Loras ignored the bit about Renly, and lowered his voice. “He grew up in Winterfell, the two of them were friends. And if we get his support we may well get his fathers too.”

“It’s too big a risk. If the two of them were friends then who knows what the boy will do when he finds out, would he try to run? Mayhaps. I don’t want to have to find out. And if they weren’t friends than it means nothing to him.”

“I feel bad keeping it secret,” Loras hissed. “And I _know _they were close, Horas and Hobber told me as much,” Jon felt his stomach clench as their words began to make sense, he wanted to believe it, but if he was hearing it wrong… he could not bear to have false hope only for it to be ripped away again.

“We’ve been getting it all backwards,” Loras continued, “we’ve been asking who would side with _us _and who would be willing to work with the Baratheons, when we should have been asking who would be willing to fight _for her_!”

“Robert is proving himself incompetent, and largely Targaryen rule was peaceful and prosperous. I suppose it does stand to reason that people would rally behind Daenerys,” there it was, they had said it, and Jon felt his heart stop for a moment. He almost laughed, he almost cried, and his muscles had clenched so hard he almost broke the branch he held.

“We shall have to wait and see,” Nym finished.

“How long until she is revealed?”

“A year or so, we need time to prepare. And she needs time to learn how to be a queen.”

“Very well,” Loras nodded. “Where will we meet next time?”

“The same place we met last time,” Lady Nym glanced around. “You leave first.”

“My lady,” Loras bowed as he departed.

The Dornish bastard kicked at a root until Loras was out of earshot, then to Jon’s utter horror she called out, “he’s gone, you can come down now.”

He did not move for a moment, frozen in the pathetic hope that perhaps she was talking to someone else. She wasn’t. She reached up and shook one of the branches impatiently.

“Hello? I am talking to you, Snow,” there was no debating her meaning now. Reluctantly, Jon swung his legs off the branch and dropped down behind her.

“I wasn’t spying,” he said immediately.

“No?” Nymeria smirked. “What were you doing then?”

“Praying,” Jon answered, insolently. “This is a _Godswood _after all.”

“Forgive me, I don’t know much about the Old Gods or your customs,” she laughed. “I hadn’t realised praying involved actually being _in _the tree.”

“Well it isn’t strictly a necessity,” Jon felt himself blushing as she saw through his obvious lie. “More of a personal preference.”

“Hmm,” the Sand nodded. “And did your Old Gods answer your prayers.”

_Yes, they did_. “I can’t be sure yet.”

“I think they did,” Lady Nym smiled, more kindly this time. “You grew up in Winterfell, alongside a certain exiled princess, I believe.”

“What of it?” Jon’s voice was sharp as a whip.

“You heard mine and the good Ser Loras’ conversation did you not?”

“It was hard not to.”

“Then I image it came as somewhat of a relief that your childhood friend was not, in fact, Burt to a crisp beside her brother.”

“Why are you telling _me_ this? Why now?” Jon did not trust this woman, but somehow he did not think she was lying about this.

“Because I think you could be useful,” the Dornish woman’s face was more sincere now. “But only if I know you won’t tell anyone else what you’ve heard here today.”

“Who do I have to tell?” Jon scoffed.

“Swear it,” her voice was icy now. “swear you will never tell a soul. Right here, before your Old Gods.”

“I swear it, I shall tell no one.” Jon hesitated for a moment, “how did you even know I was here?”

“I am not so blind as our Knight of Flowers is,” she scoffed. “I saw you enter as I waited, and while Loras was sweeping for any listeners I saw you go into your hiding place.”

“Oh,” he wasn’t sure why he felt so uncomfortable now, he knew what everyone said, _The walls have eyes in the Red Keep. _But this was the first time he’d been told that he’d been seen. “Can I…” he began, hesitantly, “can I ask, what is it you’re going to do? With _her _I mean?”

Lady Nym only smirked as she turned away from him and walked out of the Godswood. He waited until he was sure she was gone, then sighed. He almost laughed as the thought came to him, and then he said it aloud. “How many bastards does it take to start a war?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. In terms of timing, this is happening at around the same time as the last chapter (Arya chapter) because of travel time and everything. There’s gonna be a Daenerys chapter next time, and probably another time jump happening quite soon, sorry if you don’t like those, it’ll be about a year.  
Please let me know what you think, any and all comments are valid and appreciated. Hope you enjoyed :)


	24. All She Wanted

Her time at the Water Gardens had been far better than she ever could have expected, but deep down Dany had always known it would have to end this way.

She’d spent almost a year with the Martells, eating with them, speaking with them, learning from them, plotting with them. From Oberyn, she’d learnt how to wield a spear and how to spot a poison and even how to make one, with Obara often assisting in teaching spear work and Tyene with the poisons. And when Oberyn has left to go to Kingslanding and his second eldest daughter returned, Nymeria had shown her how to properly carry and throw knives, and Sarella was more then happy to practice archery with her, or lend Dany one of her favourite books.

It was Doran who’d taught her the most, though many of his lessons did not seem as fun as the ones the others gave her. It had been the prince of Dorne who advised her to take lessons with the maester, to learn about her ancestors and how they ruled. Much of which she already knew from Arya’s second hand schooling, but the detail and teaching that the maester gave was far better. Dany understood what those lessons were for; they were training her to rule by showing her the successes and failures of her house.

Dany has learnt much from these people, and though she had been cautious at first, she’d soon found herself warming to them. The Sand snakes were unlike any women she’d ever known, and she had a great deal of admiration for all of them. The Red Viper has seemed brash and intimidating at first, and that he was, but he had always treated Dany well and made a point of reminding her that they were family. “My sister was wed to your brother,” he would say “and generations before that, the first Daenerys married into house Martell as Myriah Martell married into house Targaryen. We are kin, and allies.”

The only members of house Martell who’s company she did not enjoy were Princess Arianne and Prince Quentyn. They were the ones Dany had spent the least time with, as the princess spent most of her time at Sunspear, and Quentyn was a ward of the Yronwood’s, so she had met him but once.

In the few times she’d met Arianne, the older girl had always seemed to find her somewhat of an annoyance. She was courteous enough when there was anyone else present, but when the two were left alone the Dornish Princess would oft give her unsavoury looks and make no effort to engage her in any conversation.

Quentyn has been very polite when Dany has met him, but he’d also been incredibly dull. He’d spoken of his friends in house Yronwood and complimented her beauty, and then it seemed they had nothing else to speak of. When. Dany tried to tell him of her time in the North, of how much she’d loved her life there, he’d made some joke about the cold and the customs there. She could see on his face that he regretted it immediately, but she had not brought up Winterfell again after that.

Daenerys was not a fool, no matter how young it inexperienced she was, she was no fool. She knew that no one gave anything for free, that this kindness the Martells had shown her was expected to be returned. So when Doran has called her to his solar one day, and told her of a marriage pact between his daughter Arianne and Dany’s brother Viserys, and how he hoped now to transfer that pact onto her and Quentyn, she had not been entirely surprised.

“May I see this pact?” She asked.

“Of course,” he handed her a parchment. “It was signed in Braavos, by my brother Oberyn and Ser Willem Darry.”

She inspected it as best she could, but she knew little of the legitimacy of letters. She did not even know what Ser Willems signature looked like. She nodded at the paper and handed it back. “I see.”

“What do you say, princess?” Doran asked. “The Martells and Targaryens have been friends and allies for over a century. I should very much like to continue that tradition now, with your consent, of course.”

Dany thought for a moment. She understood his meaning well enough, this was the payment for their kindness, the condition for their support. “I will need some time to think,” she told him, for it seemed the easiest answer. “But I shall have an answer for you on the morrow.”

Doran nodded and dismissed her. The second she was alone in her chambers once more, she began to pack her things. _They want to be queen. I never asked for this, I told the Spider what I thought I needed to to survive, I never thought it would go so far… _

She donned her riding leathers, a cloak of un-dyed wool and wrapped a scarf around her head to hide her hair. The sun had set over the Dornish Sands and it was much colder now, so the guards were somewhat distracted with their attempts to stay warm, allowing her to slip passed unseen.

The stables were guarded, but there was a window at the back that she knew was never shut, so she climbed the branches of a tree behind it and dropped in through the opening. The horses snorted softly at her presence, and the one who’s stall she’d landed in neighed in surprise when she put a hand on its back. Dany bridled the mare and led her from her stall, being as quiet as she could.

“Where are you going, Princess?” A voice came out of the dark, low and quiet and mischievous. Daenerys recognised it immediately and goose pimples prickled you her arms.

“Arianne,” she greeted, trying not to let her guilt show. “I hadn’t thought to see you here, I was simply seeking some solitude and thought I’d go for a ride.”

“Truly?” The older girl hummed. “That’s fair. But you’re our guest, I can hardly let you go alone; what if you’re attacked? Let me call the guards to escort y-”

“No!” It was too loud, too fast, Dany knew. _She knows now!_

“I thought so,” Arianne smirked. “Come then, let us go for this ride.”

“My lady?” Dany said, taken aback. She’d expected Arianne to march her back to prince Dorans chambers, not ride with her.

“We are long overdue a talk, I think,” the older girl mounted her own horse and nodded down at Daenerys for her to do the same.

“What about the guards?” Dany asked as she fastened her saddle.

“They’re sleeping,” Arianne smirked.

“Sleeping? Oh,” It hit Daenerys then that this was likely not any natural sleep.

“Yes, now hurry up.”

The two princesses rode out of the stables and out of the palace. Outside the walls they were joined by a third rider, and Daenerys recognised her as Sarella. The three rode hard until the Water Gardens we’re out of sight, and there was nought but dry sand and red mountains and grey trees as far as the eye could see. Only after what felt like hours did they slow.

“What is this?” Dany asked, very aware of how alone they were out there. Sarella was her friend, but she was also Arianne’s cousin, and as good a fighter as any of her sisters. Dany had her bow and a few knives she had collected during her stay at the Water Gardens, but she was loath to use them on actual people. “Where are we going?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Asked Sarella. “We have ridden this way hundreds of times before.”

“It’s harder to tell at night,” Dany complained, but when she looked around she found she did recognise this road. “We’re going to the ruins.” _The ruins _was their subtle way of saying they were going to see the Dragons, which were being kept in the ruins of some dead holdfast.

“Well you can hardly leave them here, can we,” Arianne answered as the ruins appeared on the horizon. “You’re the only one who can ever get close enough to feed them.”

“Am I going somewhere?”

Arianne laughed. “Please don’t tell me you really were just going for a ride to find some solitude. You were running away, no?” Dany had no answer to that. “You were trying to avoid having to marry my brother, weren’t you.”

She felt her cheeks redden as she lowered her eyes. “It wasn’t…” she could find no answer, “I don’t- it wasn’t anything against your brother personally,” she offered incase she’d given offence.

“I wouldn’t blame you if it was,” Arianne laughed. “My brother is not exactly the sort of man a young lady would dream of marrying. He is too much like my father, and looks rather like a frog, though I’d rather he didn’t know I told you that.”

“It’s not that,” Dany sighed. “It was everything else.”

“What else?” Sarella asked.

“Prince Doran wanted me to wed Quentyn so that we could take the Iron Throne. He wants me to be queen and Quentyn to be king.” Dany saw Arianne’s jaw clench. Neither of the older girls responded, so they rode on in silence until they reached the ruins.

“You never answered my question,” Dany stayed, as they stopped at a back entrance.

“What question?” Arianne eyed her suspiciously.

“I asked what was happening, where we were going.”

“We’re here now,” Arianne shrugged. “The ruins.”

“And after here, where do we go?”

“Away,” answered Sarella this time. “I am going to Oldtown. You will come with me for a time, then when we reach the port we shall part ways.”

“You seem like you have this very well planned out,” it was a question, but Dany was asking them _why_?

“I’ll explain everything,” Arianne promised, looking truly sincere for once. “After you have the Dragons.”

Viserion and Rhaegal were the easier ones to find. The gold dragon was sleeping atop a small pillar, so Dany lifted him gently and placed him in the wooden crate they used to transport the dragons. They were growing fast, and Dany knew they would soon be too big to hide, but for now they were lucky that the dragons would happily curl up like cats to fit their boxes.

The green dragon was fluttering between the rafters of one room, but came to Dany when she called. The black dragon was the hardest to find, and in the end, they found Dany before she found them.

Dāria flew into her back and nocked her to the floor before she even knew the beast was in the room. Dany rolled onto her back and the black beast dropped down onto her chest, fiery red eyes burning into the girls violet ones. “Your almost too big to do that now,” Dany chided as she attempted to push the dragon off her, but only succeeding in getting her fingers nipped. “Don’t bite me, I’m the one that feeds you.”

She threw a piece of horse meat into the air just to drive her point home. Dāria leapt from her chest and fried the meat as it fell, catching the flaking chunks before they landed on Dany.

“We’re going now, Dāria,” Dany whispered as she stroked the dragons neck. “Will you promise to behave yourself? Stay out of sight?” She did not need the dragon to speak to know the answer. “Of course you won’t. Well, we’ll make do, won’t we.”

She carried the black dragon out in the end, and let the two Dornish girls carry out the crates. They attached the crates between the horses and rode on to somewhere that offered more shelter and found a cave at the base of a mountain to sleep in. Dāria stayed with Dany as they set up their camp, clearly unsettling the Arianne and the horses, though Sarella was fascinated by the beast.

“Why Dāria?” She asked as the first hints of sun began to poke through the cave entrance. “You named the other two for your brothers, but I never understood why the Black was called Dāria.”

“Dāria means Queen in High Valyrian,” Dany explained. “Dragons have no fixed gender, I know, but I wanted to give them a name that signifies what they are; the king of beasts. But Dāria sounds better than Dārys, I think. And the other two are named for men, why shouldn’t this one bear a female title.”

“A queen for a queen,” Arianne muttered softly, then scoffed.

“Ari..” Sarella tried to say.

“No, cousin, don’t worry,” the Dornish princess reassured her. “I’m not going to say anything.”

“No,” Dany said, irritated now at being kept in the dark. Dāria lifted her head and stared at Arianne, adding to the intensity of Daenerys’ own gaze. “I’m tired of your secrets. You will tell me what is happening and why you’re here and why you seem to hate me so.”

“Why do I hate you?” Arianne laughed, but was clearly unnerved by Dāria’s look. “You mean beside the fact that your brother left my aunt for another woman? Left her to die? And every other member of my house seems _so _willing to overlook that blunder and put you at the front of an army and seat you upon a throne.”

“You cannot hold me accountable for that,” Dany objected. “I had not even been born when Princess Elia died. And I never asked for them to put any crown on my head. I don’t want a throne, I never have!”

“What do you want?” Sarella asked.

“I want to be free to make my own choices. To be safe and happy, and not fear being hunted by some king or lord who had a grievance with a member of my house who I never even knew!” Dany laughed, she always felt bolder in the presence of her dragons. “Everyone thinks I’m dead, don’t they? So why shouldn’t I run off to some eastern city and live a life free from this country, where no one would know me.”

“You lost all chance of a life of anonymity the day you hatched them,” said Sarella, softly, as she pointed a finger at Dāria. “Dragons are not some pets you can simply carry of to Quarth or YiTi and live with as if they were simply overgrown house cats. The dragon is, as you said, the king of all beasts! Only a king could ever hope to own such a creature. A king or a queen.”

“Sarella is right,” Arianne said, to Dany’s complete surprise. “Dragons were not made for lying around and getting fat, they are the beasts of emperors and conquerors, the foundations of the Valyrian Freehold. Your dream is a child’s dream, and you are not child. Your dragons would waste away in such a dream world. Do not waste them.”

“If you truly think this then why bring me here, why help me?” Dany asked, perplexed by the sudden change in motives.

“Truth be told it is not you I have issue with, it is my fathers plan,” Arianne exchanged a look with her cousin. “I do not like the idea of Quentyn being the King. I think…. He would be ill suited to that role.”

Dany had a feeling Arianne’s issue with Quentyn as king had more to do with her not wishing to bow to her younger brother. She sighed, “it is all well and good saying that dragons are a sign that I should rule, but even Aegon the first did not conquer Westeros with dragons alone, he had a fleet and an army. I have neither. And when your father finds out that I’ve fled he will feel slighted, he will not support me, he may even oppose me in the future. How am I supposed to take a Kingdom when I am only one girl?”

“You needn’t worry about Dornish support, for you have _my _support, whatever that’s worth. For I feel our motives are aligned. I will soothe things over with my father, explain that this was my doing, not yours. I’ll tell him there were too many eye and ears in the Water Gardens, so Sarella and I moved you to keep you safe. It is not anyone’s fault that it just so happened to happen the day you learnt of the marriage agreement. And we will find you other allies, people and houses who remained loyal to during the rebellion.”

“Thank you, Arianne,” Dany smiled, but she wished not to dwell on the subject any longer. “That agreement though,” it had been nagging in Dany’s mind all night. “Did you know about it, before, that is?”

“No,” she creased her brow. “I’d suspected he’d want you to wed Quentyn, but he only confirmed my suspicions two days ago when he told me about the agreement, about how _I _was meant to wed your brother, rather than you wedding mine.”

“Your father told me it was signed by Ser Willem Darry on mine and Viserys behalf, but Ser Willem died over a decade ago, and when he died Viserys and I were thrown out onto the streets by the old knights servants. If this pact had existed back then, why did your father not aid us, shelter us when we needed it the most? Why let us fend for ourselves, risk us dying before we can uphold this agreement? It makes no sense.”

“No,” Arianne’s frown deepened, “no it doesn’t make sense, does it. How old were you when Ser Willem died? How old was Viserys?”

“I can’t remember exactly, four or five if I had to guess because I can still remember some of my time there. That means viserys would have been twelve or thirteen maybe.”

“Where did you go after that?”

“I can’t really recall,” Dany admitted. “We went to so many places, and they all looked the same to me. Somewhere else in Braavos, Mayhaps. Or Tyrosh. I know Lord Stark found us in Lys, four years later, and before Lys we had been in Volantis. But before that… I was to young to remember. All I can ever remember wanting was that we could return to Braavos, to Ser Willems house. It was a big house with a red door, and there was a lemon tree outside my window.” She wasn’t sure why she’d told them that detail, but it was in her mind so clearly now that she could not exclude it.

“A lemon tree?” Sarella frowned. “This was in Braavos, you say?”

“Yes,” Dany nodded. “Why?”

“Braavos is the northernmost of the free cities,” Sarella explained. “It’s cold and damp, hardly any trees grow there, especially not lemon trees.”

“But I remember it,” Dany tried to think back. The image was so clear, the bright blue sky, the pure green fields she had run through, the lemons growing on the tree she would see every morning as she woke. Dāria looked up at her and nudged her hand. “I remember it, it was warm in Braavos. There were fields and trees and lemons. I don’t ever remember it raining.”

“Even I know what the climate in Braavos is,” Arianne shook her head. “It’s a port city, more grey that green. All the houses are made of stone for there are so few trees. It stinks of salt and fish, my uncle told me. And there are no lemon trees.”

“Then…” Dany could hardly think what that meant. “I didn’t make this up. The house…. Even, if it wasn’t it Braavos, it was real.”

“But where was this house?” Arianne asked.

“Lemon trees do grow in the other free cities,” Sarella offered. “In Lys and Myr,and mayhaps Volantis. And…”

“Dorne,” Arianne finished for her cousin. “Lemon trees grow in Dorne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
Ok First thing to say is that I hope you are all alright with the name Dāria, because I feel like the names of the dragons can really make it brake these kinds of fics. I hope I explained my choice well.  
Second, I hope this wasn’t too rushed or anything, I just didn’t see the point it spending a tear of text time with her in Dorne, because it would be kinda boring. Also, Arianne’s reaction is based mostly on her WoW sample chapters where she doesn’t seem too happy about “King Quentyn”.  
Next chapter will be another Dany one I think. Again, I hope you enjoyed and are staying safe :)


	25. If I Look Back

Arianne’s plan had gone far deeper than Dany had expected at first glance. On their journey through the desert she had wondered how they were going to leave Dorne without anyone noticing. Two or three young women would have little enough issue in doing so, but three young dragons the size of large dogs were another matter entirely. That was when Sarella’s part in the plot had become clear.

The fourth daughter of Oberyn Martell had written to her mother almost half a year ago, inquiring as to where she was, and whether the ship she was captain of would be stopping at Westeros any time soon. To her joy, it was. 

Sarella’s Mother was a trader from the Summer Isles and was the captain of her own ship, the Feathered Kiss. Dany had not been a part of the initial deal, let alone her dragons, but with a little persuading from Sarella, her mother was willing to alter her course slightly so they would pass closer to Dragonstone on their way to Braavos.

Dany felt a shiver go up her spine when she first heard the name Dragonstone. She had not been there since she was a babe, since she had been chased off. It had seemed a dangerous, foolish plan to go there at first, but Arianne had explained everything.

“My uncle has been sending reports from Kingslanding,” she told Dany. “Robert has had a gathering to celebrate his new heir, and to find a suitable match for her. Lord Stannis is in attendance, as is a large part of his fleet at his brothers request. It will not be hard for you to sail up under cover of dark and sneak onto the island.”

And indeed, it had been laughable easy to slip through Dragonstone’s defences. Once in the island however, concealing herself became harder. She took a route as far from any farm or keep that she could, trying her best to keep the dragons quiet and on the ground, though she would allow them some freedom to roam the sky at night when there was no one to see. On the first day, there had been one near miss where they had spotted a farmer tending his flock upon the hill above them. Dany had Rhaegal spread his wings over herself and the other two dragons in a hope he would conceal them, as he was almost perfectly camouflaged to the dark grass around them.

Even after the revelation of Stannis’ departure however, the _why _of their voyage to Dragonstone still alluded Dany. She had turned to Sarella for answers before the Dornish girl left the ship at Oldtown. “Why wouldn’t you go to Dragonstone?” The Sand girl almost laughed. “It was on this Island that the Valyrians chose to build their outpost, where the Targaryens fled to after Daenys’ dream. Do you know why the Valyrians chose _this_ island in particular?”

“The Dragonmont,” Dany nodded, remembering a book that Doran had given her once. “It creates the proper climate and environment for dragons to thrive.”

“That’s right,” Sarella smiled. “Your dragons have done well in Dorne. They have grown a lot since you first arrived, but not as much as we’d all have liked. They are too small to fight, too small to ride. Maybe another year in the Ruins would see them twice again their current size, or mayhaps not. We can’t take that risk.”

“But I cannot just live on Dragonstone, with three growing dragons for a year and expect no one to notice,” Dany pointed out. “We’ll be discovered eventually.”

“Ah, I thought about that,” the Dornish girl gave a proud smirk. “You’re not just going to wander the island for a year, you’re going _into _the Dragonmont!”

“Into it?” Dany was struck dumb. “But- it- won’t we die?”

“No, the mount itself is nothing more than that, a large cratered hill,” Sarella reassured her. “There’s chambers full on molten rock beneath the earth, within underground pools and chambers.” Dany looked at her skeptically, still not wholly convinced that this was the greatest of plans. “It’s the _perfect _place for you! I’ve studied maps of Dragonstone, and I believe there are tunnels in the mountain that lead into the castle itself, though Lord Stannis has never found these, so you would be safe in them. And the mountain emits gasses, creating it’s own fog at the top, so no one will see your dragons when they need to stretch their wings.”

“How will I get into it though?” Dany sighed. “I’ll have to climb down what could potentially be a sheer cliff face.”

“I’m less sure on that, I’ll admit. But your ancestors often housed their dragons there, and I’ve read that their hatcheries were in there too. I’m sure they would have some entrance other than the speculated tunnels.”

“So you’re saying I’ll have to wander around the Dragonmont hoping for some way in that may not even exist?”

“Yes!” Sarella said, with far too much enthusiasm.

It took Dany two days to reach the Dragonmont, and a further half day to reach the top. Well, _almost _the top. She reached the mist that Sarella had told her of, the one which would supposedly hide her dragons from view, and she’d had to turn back immediately. This was like no mist or fog day had encountered before. It was thick and grey and heavy, and the smell of it reminded her of the heated pools at Winterfell, only here it was far stronger.

She took barely two steps into the fog before she had to leave, the thick grey smoke had stuck in her throat and made it almost impossible for her to breathe. The dragons had no problem with it, she saw, but she was loath to leave them just yet, so she called them back and the spiralled around the hill until they came upon a cave.

The cave was littered with old, scorched bones. Further in they found rats and other rodents, which the dragons made short work of. Dany soon discovered the truth of Sarella’s suspicions as they traveled further into the cave. The floor began to slope downwards until they eventually came to steps, a rough staircase carved into the rock that turned in a wide circle with the occasional window on the right hand side of the passage. She stood on top toes to see what was on the other side of the first window; it was the inside of the Dragonmont she realised.

After what could have been an hour of walking down the staircase and along a weaving passageway, they finally came to a high-ceilinged chamber, with walls of ice-like, smoky, black rock. _Dragon glass, _her mind told her. The chamber had seven archways marking the entrances to seven new passageways beside the one she had just entered through.

It took Dany four whole days to explore each of the passages in their entirety. The first one stretched barely a hundred yards before the floor dropped away and she saw a vertical tunnel beneath her. There was a ladder in the side of the wall, but the rungs looked old and warn so she did not risk it. There was, however, a hot breeze that blew up into her face when she peered down the shaft, so from that and a window in the side of the passage she gathered that the drop led to an opening that would allow access to the inside of the Dragonmont and therefore would be an ideal exit and entrance for the dragons whenever they needed some space.

Dany tested her theory by sending Dāria down. The black beast shrieked at the idea at first, but after some light persuasion she dropped down, and seconds later Dany saw her fly up past the dark grass window.

The next five archways led to other underground chambers, three of which had been half submerged in red hot molten rock and the ceiling were starting to crumble, so she hadn’t lingered long. One of the passages led to a small series of caverns, all of which contained a number of alcoves etched into the stone, with a ledge halfway up and a grate on the floor beneath which directed heat to the underside of the ledge.

To Dany’s immense shock and joy, several of these caverns had contained dragon eggs. Most of the eggs lay on the ledges, heat from the grate beneath keeping them warm. Others she’d found half buried in the ashy sand that made up the cave floor. She wanted to take them all with her, carry them out and keep them for her own, but when she lifted the first one something stopped her. These eggs were different from the ones her dragons had hatched from. _Those_eggs had been hard, cold; the spider had even told her that the ages had turned them to stone. But the egg in her hands now was bright and warm, not dead, just dormant.

Briefly, Dany wondered why these eggs were so different from hers, then she remembered what Sarella told her, that the Targaryens of old had kept their hatcheries in here. _The heat keeps them alive, but there’s not enough to make them hatch. _Not enough heat, not enough life, _not enough…. _One day, Dany vowed, she would find a way to hatch them. And on that day, her family’s dynasty would be restored, and dragons would own the skies once again.

The final passage Dany had given herself an entire day to explore, as she had been too tired the night before. The last passage she tried, had, of course, been the one she had most keenly sought; the one that led to the Castle. She knew where she was when the stone around her changed from roughly mined rock to smooth, polished bricks.

She chose the straightest path she could, marking the wall every few yards so she wouldn’t lose her way. When she saw a door ahead of her she hung her torch from a wall sconce so that the light wouldn’t be noticed. Before she could open the door, something on the wall of the cavern gave her pause. There were words carved into the wall, most of them faded, but there was one name cut deep into the stone, _“Visenya”_. Beneath it was what seemed to be a message warning people that this was _Visenya’s _place, Dany wanted to laugh at that. All she knew of Visenya was from Dorans books and Arya’s hurried stories, from those she gathered that the first Queen of Westeros had been a fierce warrior and great ruler. But this one carving showed her as a young girl trying to keep her siblings out of _her _place.

Still smiling at the sight of her ancestors writing, Dany turned to the wall behind her, and her jaw dropped as she realised this wall was covered in names, from the floor to the ceiling. She saw _Aenys _and _Maegor, Rhaena _and _Alysanne, Aerea, Aemon, Baelon, Rhaenys, Viserra, Daemon, Daena. _So many names she could not read them all. Her eyes skimmed to the newest names, the ones closest to the floor, and there they were. One name clear cut, letters neat and deep in the rock. The second done clumsily, barely legible, with a faint brown stain beneath it. _Rhaegar _and _Viserys._

As she stared at the names for a moment, a memory returned to her. Once when she had been very young, she’d discovered that Viserys had a scar on the back of his hand by his thumb. When she asked how he’d got it, he’d mumbled some excuse about training at swords on Dragonstone and Dany had forgotten all about it. But now… _a young boy, not yet seven years, of course he cut himself trying to carve rock with a knife._

Dany’s own hand now went to her hip, almost subconsciously. _I have a knife,_ the action would blunt the blade, but she had a whetstone to fix that issue. She drew the knife, and crouched so she was level with her brothers names, and began to carve her own just beneath them. It was harder than it looked, and her writing ended up looking much like Viserys’ did, but at least she hadn’t cut herself.

Just as she turned to leave, Dany heard laughter on the other side of the door, a child’s laughter.

“Why are we looking at this one,” a boys voice said, their companion still laughing quietly. “This is the boring! Can’t we see the other Dragon ones?”

“I don’t know where the other dragon ones are,” said a girls voice now. “And this one isn’t boring, it’s a map.”

“I know what it is,” the boy huffed. _I know that voice, _Dany wracked her brains for where she’d heard it before. “It’s a map of Westeros.”

“This is us down here,” the girl said, and Dany heard the door creak slightly as the girl was clearly poking at the map. “On Dragonstone. And my father is here, in Kingslanding.”

“_My _father is in Kingslanding too!” The boy objected. “And the rest of my family is all the way up there!” Dany heard the sound of feet colliding with stones as the boy was clearly jumping. “Up in Winterfell.”

_Winterfell, _Dany realises then, and felt a fool for not understanding sooner, _Bran! _Dany wanted nothing so much as to burst out the door and hug him, but she could not do that. Again, she heard the sound of feet crashing into stone and the girl, _probably Princess Shireen, _laughing at Bran.

“You can’t reach it,” the girl said between snorts of laughter. “It’s too high up!”

“I’ll be able to soon,” Bran grumbled. “I’ve been growing, Maester Cressen says so.”

“You still aren’t as tall as me though,” bragged Shireen. Dany could not help but smile, hearing Brans voice was soothing her greatly, and hearing the conversation between the two children reminded her of similar conversations she used to have with Arya, and Jon… _no, _she told herself, _I mustn’t think about them, it will only make me sad._

“Are you sure there aren’t any other dragon tapestries?” Bran was asking now. “This one is boring.”

“There are others,” Shireen huffed impatiently, “I just don’t know where they are. Father had all the Targaryens’ tapestries and paintings removed when he became the Lord of Dragonstone. I only have the one of the blue dragon because I told father I liked them and he gave me it as a gift. This one belonged to the Targaryens though, but it was left up because it’s just a map, not anything to do with Valyria.”

Dany felt the hairs on her arms lift up at that, _was it not bad enough that they chased us from our home and murdered our family, they had to remove all trace of our dynasty from their halls as well? _She could hear no more of this talk, or else she feared she would reveal herself. She said a silent goodbye to Bran walked back down the tunnel, grabbing her torch as she went.

For the rest of that day she had explored various other passages and tunnels, one very useful one she found had led into a cupboard in a storeroom beside the kitchen, so she would not go hungry at the very least. She checked before exiting any tunnel or passage that there was no one in the room it led to, but she never lingered anywhere for long, and always marked the wall wherever she went.

By the time she returned to her cave in the Dragonmont, her dragons were restless so she sent them out for their nightly hunt, reminding them as best she could to stay out of sight, though she was sure they hadn’t a clue what she meant.

That night, like so many others before it, Dany dreamed of Winterfell. Her dreams were always similar, she was swimming in the pools in the Godswood with Arya, or they were laughing at some secret jape while septa mordane chided them for being too loud. Sometimes she was helping Robb cover for Rickon as the youngest Stark was stealing food from the kitchens. Her favourite sort of dream though, was the sort she was having this night.

_They were in the Godswood, a light snow falling. They were playing their usual game; one throwing the apple while the other shot it. It was Dany’s turn to throw the apple this time, Jon had hit them all so far. They played their game in silence for a while, turning and smiling every now and then if a good hit was made. When she threw the last apple, his arrow missed, skimming the top but not landing the hit._

_“You missed!” Dany gloated as they went to collect their arrows._

_“The day I hit them is the day I stop improving,” Jon told her, smiling. His words rang a bell in her mind. And suddenly, it wasn’t Jon’s face that she saw, but Sarella’s. The Dornish girl was giving her usual self pleaded grin, holding her goldenheart longbow in hand. _Why is she here? _Dany wondered, distress overwhelming her, _this isn’t her place, this is _our _place, mine and his.

_But then it wasn’t her place, she wasn’t in the Godswood anymore. They were back in the Water Gardens. Sarella was stood in the crowd, along with Arianne and all her sisters. The dress Daenerys wore was black and red, the colours of her house. _This is wrong, _she thought, frantically looking around for a friendly face, for anyone who might help her. But all her friends stood in the crowd and looked on as Doran gripped her arm and led her through the people gathered until they came to Quentyn._

_A Septon began to sing prayers and everyone smiled at her, but behind every kindly face lurked a viper, a vulture, ready to strike at any moment, scavenging off of her every pride and joy and weakness. Feeding off her power. She looked around desperately. _For who? _She asked herself, _who am I looking for?_ The answer was obvious, of course. She looked for Jon. For Jon would save her, surely he would. Didn’t the handsome prince always battle a dragon and save the princess from the bastardly villain? But this dream was all backwards, she was waiting for the bastard to save her from the prince, and she was both the princess and the dragon_

Stop waiting, _said a voice inside of her, though she could not say who that voice belonged to; it was so different from her own. _He will not save you, he _did not _save you, you saved yourself, Daenerys. He did not save you from Quentyn, he did not save you from Robert, _you did._

_She wasn’t the princess anymore, she wasn’t the frightened child, not some helpless thing to be sheltered and protected. She was the dragon, and she was the Queen. She flew herself away and she knew one day she would burn all her enemies to the ground._

She woke with a start to the sound of Dāria screeching. From the light in the window she saw it wasn’t yet dawn, but Dāria has dragged a sheep into the cavern and was ripping off its wool, preparing to burn it. Now was as good a tome for breakfast as any, she supposed.

As she bit into the chunks of burning mutton, she thought on her dream. _What am I waiting for? _She asked herself. It was a stupid question of course, she was waiting for her dragons to grow, but she was also waiting for help. For allies. _Can I really sit here and rely on Arianne and Dorne alone to secure those for me? _She knew the answer.

Sarella had been right about one thing, her dragons were the creatures of kings and queens and hero’s, not pets for some little girl who sat around being protected and provided for by men who sought to use her. She had to do something.

Then, unbidden, her thoughts went to Jon. _He thinks I’m dead, it’s been a year, _she told herself. _He has forgotten all about me. I do not need him, _she reminded herself. _But I want him. _It was the truth, it had always been the truth. Then she remembered where he was, in Kingslanding, as the kings hostage. _I do not need him, but he needs me. He did not rescue me, but mayhaps I can rescue him…. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here’s the next chapter, I hope you enjoyed it :)  
I’m sorry if the dream is a bit cringey, I struggle with writing ships because I never know what’s too much, but I’m working on it!  
Let me know any ideas or thoughts you have because I love to hear them. And I hope you’re all staying safe and well!


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